Destined, 1x1 Pilot: The Crucible
by Twin-Swords
Summary: The year is 2025. The setting is Boston. Wyatt 22 and Chris 20 are the Halliwell brothers. The next generation of the Warrenline, destined to be protectors of the innocent and good magic. Story Format. COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters Chris and Wyatt Halliwell, or Charmed, although, I wish I did… because some of the crap we had to put up with in Seasons 7 and 8 would have been replaced by something a lot better… like a spin-off featuring the Halliwell brothers. Right, back to the disclaimer. I don't own 'em. Not making any money. Etc. Etc.

**Author's Note:** This is the story-version of a set of scripts I am working on for a spin-off… namely the Pilot Episode. This is set 18 years after the series finale of Charmed, when Chris and Wyatt would be taking over the Halliwell legacy. Chris is twenty and Wyatt is twenty-two. Things will explain themselves as you read, so, without further adieu, I hope you enjoy! Please read and review.

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**Destined: The Charmed Sons**

**Episode 1.1, Pilot: The Crucible**

**Prologue**

In the darkness of night, a lone figure emerged from the cellar of an old building that may have been a church at one time. As the figure's shape became more visible, it revealed to be a young man in his late teens wearing a black leather trench coat; his long, dirty, black hair tied back in a ponytail, while blood ran down his chin. He peered upwards towards the steeple, where years gone by a cross would have been silhouetted against the star speckled sky. Now there was only a stooped raven looking down at him.

The sight of the bird sent a shiver down his spine and dark eyes narrowed at the carrion eater above him. It was an ill omen. The man wiped his hand across his chin, smearing the trail of crimson across the backside of it. For a moment he looked at the evidence of what he had just done, then back towards the basement door he had emerged from. He swallowed down the flutter of anxiety that threatened to shake his resolve.

Walking towards the man from further down the silent, lamp-lit street was a very pale woman. She was roughly five-feet-six, about four inches shorter than the man she was approaching, with long blond hair. She was too skinny to be in perfect health. She carried over her shoulder a heavy laden backpack. As she neared the man, a relieved smile grew on her face. As the two reached one another's side, their hands clasped together and they met eye-to-eye.

"Did anyone follow you?" the man asked.

"No, I don't think so," she answered. The two smiled nervously at one another, finishing their greeting of one another with a kiss, that in spite of seeming like they dare not allow themselves much time to enjoy, was passionate. There was a sense of tense urgency about the pair. The woman reached a hand to touch the trail of blood on his face seeing the cut at his cheek that it ran from, but without questioning him on it with more than a look, began to lead him to the main doors of the church. The crosses that had once decorated the doors, had been replaced by carved pentagrams, giving tell that this historic house of worship was being used for something other than its original intended construction.

Outside the building, a massive figure approached holding a large axe. It was apparent he knew who was in the building, and what they planned on doing. He crept closer to a large window where he could see inside. Watching the two embrace each other made his blood boil. His fingers tightened around the heavy axe he held.

Dropping her shoulder bag upon the floor, the blonde woman began pulling out candles and a myriad of occult items including a bowl to mix things in. The man watched her, crouching to help her begin setting up for their task. It was as if the two of them knew that their time was of the essence. "They won't stay out long. Those ropes won't hold forever… you're sure this will work?" the man asked her with calmness as he lit the candles and joined her on the floor over a small bowl. She nodded without answering aloud, pulling out herbs and a piece of parchment which she passed to her companion. He held her fingers for a moment longer than necessary when he accepted what she passed to him.

Suddenly the window burst inwards as the figure that had been watching them could contain his patience no longer. His unexpected entrance startled the two lovers. The girl was speechless. She recognized the man, but did not dare speak his name. The young man she was with was in shock, not able to move even enough to remove his hand from hers.

As the dark figure towered over the two, he stared directly at the young man in black. "You _witch_, do you really think that you can redeem this place? Redeem _her?_" his voice grated in his throat like course sandpaper. The young man, still in shock, had no reply. The overbearing figure struck, not with the axe, but with a booted foot to the youth's face. It sent him sprawling backwards against a pew, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to smack his head against the wood.

Frantic, the girl grabbed her piece of paper, quickly spouting off the words, although the preparations hadn't been finished. Something had to be done. Quickly.

"Magic forces far and wide  
Enchant this place so foes can't hide  
Allow this witch a sanctuary therein  
So she can dispel the evil within…"

The man lifted his axe, bringing it down in a swift and deadly movement upon the still dazed young man. Blood spattered across the girl's face as she watched in horror as her companion fell to the ground and didn't move again. "Nooo!" she screeched out in anguish. The axe-wielding murderer was turning to her now. The girl quickly started to back-peddle away, eyes widened in horror, while she still tried frantically to read the spell again.

"Magic forces far and wide…

"How could you? You bring this deceit upon your family. You have betrayed us Abigail…" the man's voice grated coldly. He lifted the axe again as he stepped over the body. "…you have betrayed your coven." The looming, silhouetted figure continued to approach her as she backed herself up against the wall, sliding up into a standing position. His boots left bloody tracks in the floor behind him.

"Enchant this place so foes can't hide  
Allow this witch a sanctuary therein…"

He kicked her candles and knocked her bowl of ingredients over before he swung the axe at her. The metal blade cleaved through her middle and with a scream that echoed in the cavernous room, her body erupted into flames leaving only a small pile of ash.

Unsatisfied, her killer spat on the pile of ash before he turned, taking one of her candles and set it underneath a curtain to burn the place down. Bending over the young man that he killed he yanked a metal charm from the body, closing the symbol in his palm. The man left his murderous scene without looking back while flames began consuming the building behind him…

Opening Credits Roll

Theme song: "Gunslinger (Runnin' Out of Time)" - Over It

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	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters Chris and Wyatt Halliwell, or Charmed, although, I wish I did… because some of the crap we had to put up with in Seasons 7 and 8 would have been replaced by something a lot better… like a spin-off featuring the Halliwell brothers. Right, back to the disclaimer. I don't own 'em. Not making any money. Etc. Etc.

**Author's Note:** This is the story-version of a set of scripts I am working on for a spin-off… namely the Pilot Episode to eventually be converted to screenplay format for the contest on This is set 18 years after the series finale of Charmed, when Chris and Wyatt would be taking over the Halliwell legacy. Chris is twenty and Wyatt is twenty-two. Things will explain themselves as you read, so, without further adieu, I hope you enjoy! Please read and review.

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**Destined: The Charmed Sons**

**Episode 1.1, Pilot: The Crucible**

Images show of Boston, clips of the city and the city life. A glorious sunrise that spreads its golden glow over the cityscape, making the windows in the high-rise buildings gleam like so many sparkling jewels. At last the images focus on an apartment building with Victorian architecture and balconies leading to fire escapes. Below the obvious apartments is a small café and nightclub.

Song: "Until the World" - The Afters

**Chapter One**

"Wy?" Christopher Halliwell said from the doorway to his brother's room. It was just a simple mentioning of his name in order to get his elder sibling's attention. However, Chris wasn't getting that attention. Wyatt Halliwell sat with his back to the door. From the slump in his broad shoulders and the leaning of his head against the keyboard of his computer, Chris could tell that either he was concentrating really hard on the lyrics to the song he was listening to, or, he had fallen asleep working. He had tried to tell his brother to work on that article sooner, doing a little bit at a time instead of putting it off.

For who they were, Wyatt should have known there would constantly be something interrupting getting it done. Now, here was the result of his procrastination: falling asleep in front of his computer after trying to pull an all-nighter. "One week into the semester and he's already pulling all-nighters," he mumbled sympathetically. Chris shook his head, frowning at the disaster area that was Wyatt's room. The elder Halliwell was neat, orderly and almost annoyingly perfect at everything else he did, but then there were the times that he showed that he was actually human. From the unmade bed to the dirty clothes and miscellaneous textbooks scattered about, Wyatt had taken his new found freedom a bit too far in Chris's opinion.

There were still unpacked boxes in the room, Chris noticed with a shake of his head. Wyatt had graduated from San Francisco State University with a Communications degree three months ago, with honors, and had been accepted into Graduate School at the same University that Chris was attending. Unlike his brother, Chris had wanted to get away from home sooner and had applied only to east coast schools for college. He'd wanted to gain some independence and he'd found it, but it was good to have his big brother around again. Except for the unsightly mess Wyatt's moving in had brought to Chris's apartment.

"Wy?" Chris asked again, shifting the laundry basket to one side. There was yet again no response from his older brother. Chris could hear the soft buzz of music playing in the headphones Wyatt had on. "Wyatt?" Chris repeated, stepping over his brother's carelessly discarded backpack and into the room. He looked warily at the stack of boxes beside the door that had been loaded down with books and wrinkled clothes, a bit fearful that the wrong move would send the entire thing crashing down on him.

While twenty-two year old Wyatt was broad shouldered, muscular, blonde and everyone's picture of the American "boy-next-door", Chris was just as tall, although more lean with darker features inherited from their mother. Two years younger than Wyatt, or nearly that, Chris had their father's sea green eyes, while Wyatt's were a piercing blue. Not that Wyatt's eyes could be seen, with them closed in sleep. The younger brother grabbed a few articles of clothing, stuffing them into the laundry basket and gave one last try to rousing his brother with his voice before he would resort to other means, "_Wyatt!_"

Chris rolled his eyes, and then shifted the laundry basket again so that he could free his right hand. With a small gesture of his fingers, the dial on Wyatt's stereo turned full blast via telekinesis. Loud rock music blared from the headphones that were still in Wyatt's ears, causing one of the rudest wake ups that a younger sibling can invoke. With a start, Wyatt jerked his hands up to fling the offending noise away from him and in the process caused his chair to roll out from under him, depositing his still sleep-fogged self upon the cluttered floor of his room. The motion of his hands in his downward fall created a small explosion from his stereo - stopping the noise, but also stopping any future use of the innocent piece of electronics. Smoke and sparks emerged and Wyatt ground his teeth in frustration.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Wyatt snapped grouchily at Chris as he picked himself up from the floor and waved the smoke away from the ruined stereo. Having stayed up all-night and fallen asleep on his keyboard, only to be woken so impolitely, Wyatt wasn't yet coherent enough to feel cordial or forgiving. That and he had just killed his stereo unintentionally with magic. What probably bothered Wyatt more was that it could have just as easily been Chris that he had blasted.

Wyatt and Chris Halliwell were brothers like any other, except for the small little detail of the two of them being witches. Born into the magical community, the sons of the eldest Charmed Sister and her Whitelighter husband, the Halliwell brothers had been raised with the knowledge of supernatural things that the average person would never begin to imagine. Their mother was Piper Halliwell, one of the Charmed Ones, and a powerful good witch. While their father, Leo Wyatt was mortal now, up until shortly after Chris was born he had been a Whitelighter. That is to say, their father had literally been a guardian angel. Half angel and half witch, Wyatt and his younger brother Chris had matured with the knowledge that one day they would carry on their family's legacy as protectors of good magic and defenders of the innocent.

Chris just shook his head, trying to hide a smirk, "How was I supposed to know you were going to vanquish your stereo?" The dark-haired witch went back to grabbing articles of dirty clothes where he dared, trying not to cause the precarious arrangement of books and boxes to start a cave-in. Wyatt folded his muscular arms over his broad chest and tried his best to express his annoyance with his glares.

"Did you forget that Mom and Dad are flying in from San Francisco today?" Chris asked his sibling, without looking at him. Chris could feel and even sense the glares being directed at the back of his head by his elder sibling. Chris was busy setting the laundry basket on Wyatt's unmade bed so that he could better accumulate what needed to be washed. "Help me clean this place up so Mom doesn't have a heart attack when she sees it."

The last eighteen years, since the Charmed Ones had fought their greatest battle, had been relatively quiet. Allowing Wyatt and Chris to have remarkably normal childhoods for Halliwells, something their mother had always hoped for her children. There had been a few uprisings or troubles that would pop up here and there, but all in all, the two young men had been able to actually _have_ childhoods. They had played sports, had parties, made friends… They had been able to grow into their powers without constant threats from evil, and their mother had made sure that they experienced all there was to experience _outside_ of magic. Things were still relatively quiet in the Underworld. It had been that fact alone that had given Chris the opportunity to move so far away from his family to go to school.

His mother had begrudgingly accepted that her youngest son, her baby, wanted to experience some things on his own. Chris had needed to spend at least some time, out from under the shadow of his elder brother. Wyatt's birth had been foretold as the 'Twice-Blessed Witch' and even magic itself had stopped the day he was born. Chris had no such prophecies telling of his birth, or any such great expectations placed upon him… except for his own personal complex of trying to live up to his older brother. He didn't envy the pressure that Wyatt faced with his magical destiny, but there were times that Chris wished that he wasn't thought of as 'Wyatt's Little Brother' or 'Piper's Youngest Son' in the magical community, rather than the distinct individual that he was. Chris had had two years here in Boston on his own and the first time someone referred to Wyatt as, 'Oh, you're Chris's brother,' it had made him grin. That had been enough to satisfy his urge for being recognized as an individual.

Wyatt blinked drowsily at Chris, raking his hands through blonde curls that were unusually unruly this morning. The annoyance at his wake-up and the demise of yet another electronic device thanks to the combustion power he had inherited from his mother was gradually beginning to fade. Watching Chris moving around his room on a cleaning spree was making it hard to stay mad. It was almost comical to see his younger sibling acting in such an amusingly similar fashion to their mother. "Now?" Wyatt asked.

Chris looked up as he lifted the now overflowing laundry basket from the bed. He responded in a deadpan voice, laden heavily with sarcasm, "No. Tomorrow." Rolling his sage-green eyes, for the second time already this morning, Chris finished with, "Yes, now. How do you function in all this mess? You just moved in, but you look like you have a year's worth of clutter in here already. Is there any method to this madness… and were you planning on actually unpacking the rest of your stuff? You've been here long enough to finish moving in, there's been plenty of time to get settled even with our usual _distractions._ This place is a disaster… I can understand a little mess, Wy, but seriously. I _know_ Mom didn't let you keep your room at the Manor like this… tell me your whole apartment back in San Fran didn't look like this…"

"Hey," Wyatt said defensively, "I think I'm pretty well settled, don't you? I may not alphabetize the cabinets or neurotically color-code my closet, but I know where everything in here is."

"The cabinets are not alphabetized, they're _organized_… and I don't _neurotically_ colo_r-code _my closet. I do, however, know where my closet is and what clothes hangers are for," Chris defended as he picked up a shirt from the nightstand, uncovering a half-eaten slice of pizza. The younger man's face contorted in a grimace, "Okay. Ew. And you're telling me you knew that was there?"

Wyatt looked sheepish for a second and a bit of color crept into his cheeks, and then he returned to being defensive. The older witch crossed the room and grabbed the plate, dumping the pizza in the trashcan that was already spilling over. "Don't you have somewhere to be? A class or something?" Wyatt complained, though now it was only half-hearted. He loved his little brother, which was part of the reason the pair of them had decided to move in together when Wyatt arrived in Boston a month ago to get ready for the Fall Semester.

"Yeah, in like, two hours… which is why I want you to help me clean this place up as much as possible _now_, so I'm not stuck doing it all myself at the last minute while you're off meeting with the editor of the paper about that article you fell asleep writing last night," Chris nudges the overflowing garbage with his sneaker, "This is embarrassing," he teases good naturedly. The grin on his face should have been enough to tell Wyatt that he wasn't _that_ serious about it, even were it not for their brotherly bond. Chris had had his time to learn who he was, and now, he was genuinely glad to have his big brother back around. He'd missed the banter and his best friend. "I'm ashamed to be related to you. Please, tell me that you don't plan on bringing girls in here with it looking like this…"

Wyatt grinned, having managed to forget about the earlier rude awakening, his lips parted to reveal his teeth. That was the good thing about their relationship, they never could stay angry with each other. "I could tell you that." Wyatt waited a moment, then added with an overly casual shrug, "Cleaning my room hasn't been real high on the priorities list."

"I've noticed," Chris said wryly.

"Hey, we didn't have to get an apartment together. I could've afforded a smaller place on my own and you could've always gone back to living in the dorms for another semester…"

"Yeah, the dorm thing worked out real well," Chris said sarcastically, "No, thanks. I can put up with you being a slob so I don't have to consider vanquishing another roommate from hell." As much of a joke as that would be to any college student, his first roommate _had_ been that bad. It had been one of Chris's first solo experiences against evil. Eighteen, fresh out of high school, in a city on the other side of the country from the rest of his family, and his roommate had tried to kill him. His mother, aunts, nor Wyatt had been there to help, either. Oh, he could have called out for Wyatt, but he had handled it on his own. Barely. Chris shook away the memory and flashed Wyatt a conspiratorial grin, "Just help me get this place looking civilized for Mom and Dad."

Chris nodded to the plate Wyatt was still holding; "You can rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. I'll be downstairs in the laundry room, hoping that there's an empty washer." Chris stepped out of Wyatt's room and shortly after Wyatt heard the door to their apartment close behind Chris.

"Could always just use magic to get rid of the mess," Wyatt mused as he started to carry the plate out of his room. Wyatt paused in the doorway and turned to look back at his mess with a sigh, "Then I'll get a personal gain lecture." He could almost hear Chris now reminding him of the last time he had decided to use their Aunt Paige's favorite spell. Not something the Wyatt cared to repeat. "…yes mother," Wyatt mumbled to himself with a smile, the comment meant for his brother who had already left their apartment. They balanced one another out and kept each other in line. It was a good arrangement.

Wyatt was halfway across the living room when the air in front of him shimmered. The eldest Halliwell brother jumped back, dropped his plate and lifted his hands ready to defend himself and the apartment from what had to be a demon attack. The shimmering image solidified into a scruffy, six-foot-one man with tousled brown hair, the beginnings of a beard, and wearing glasses over his green eyes. Before the figure finished coming into focus, Wyatt flicked his hands forward in a gesture very similar to the one that had blown up his stereo just a short time ago.

The young man yelled as he dropped to the ground, throwing his hands over his head as the burst of explosive power blasted the lamp behind him. His eyes widened behind his glasses as he cautiously looked up towards Wyatt, "What did that lamp ever do to you?"

Wyatt's hands dropped quickly when he recognized the young man he had almost blown up, and he hurried over to help his friend back up to his feet. "D.J.! I could've killed you!" Wyatt admonished the half-manticore angrily, "You ought to know better than to shimmer in here unexpectedly. Couldn't you have used the door? I thought you were someone coming to attack us."

D.J. shook his head, dusting himself off as Wyatt helped him to his feet, "Okay: A, what demon in their right mind would shimmer into your _home_ to attack you guys, knowing the power you pack? It would be guaranteed suicide. B, you didn't kill me so don't worry about it. It wouldn't be the first near miss I've had… today. Finally, C, I didn't use the door because I came straight here because of something important I heard." D.J. raised his eyebrows as he got a look at the strangely pristine condition of the apartment, then looked at Wyatt, "How is this place this clean and you two live here? Wait, don't answer that, your brother is on some sort of 'Felix Unger cleaning kick' right?"

Wyatt made a face at D.J. and sighed at the damage to the lamp, knowing that when Chris returned from the laundry he'd have to explain that. D.J.'s words caused Wyatt to chuckle, although he was still annoyed at the demonic means of entry into the apartment. "You'd better be glad Chris didn't see you shimmer in here, he'd have had an aneurism," Wyatt said, moving to finish what he had started, thus he turned to pick up the dirty plate he had dropped. Unfortunately it had broken. "Casualty number three for the day," he muttered dryly, picking up the pieces. Over his shoulder to D.J. Wyatt questioned, "Felix Unger?"

"Yeah, you know? Felix and Oscar?" D.J. said helpfully. Wyatt clearly didn't get his meaning so D.J. appended, "The Odd Couple? Never mind… why is this place so clean?"

"Our parents are flying out here. Apparently Chris wants their first visit to our place to impress Mom so she stops worrying about the two of us living together without supervision from the rest of our family, all the way on the east coast," Wyatt said, "He accused me of being a slob."

"You mean you aren't?" D.J. teased as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Wyatt dropped the broken dish in the trashcan before he moved to the sink to begin rinsing the ones waiting there.

"Funny," Wyatt said. The blonde witch opened the dishwasher and began putting dishes in as he rinsed them. "I'll admit, I've let things get out of hand over the last few weeks, but can there be one thing in my life that I'm not expected to be perfect at?"

D.J. held his hands up in defense, "Whoa, there Mr. Twice-Blessed, I wasn't aiming to get you on that subject. I just meant that you don't have cleaning high on your priorities list. You never have. Nor do you need to. Your place back in San Francisco was what I expected of a young, dashing bachelor with his first place, who has the weight of the world on his shoulders in living up to his over-inflated destiny while fighting evil at every turn… not…" D.J. leaned to the side, gesturing to the tidy apartment, "…straight out of a magazine. You don't have to be perfect. Lighten up. Or go back to bed, which you obviously got up on the wrong side of this morning."

"Sorry," Wyatt said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'd love to go back to sleep. I think I dozed off around four this morning working at my desk. We won't go into waking up on the wrong side of the bed, either. Although," Wyatt trailed off spotting the pot of coffee and a mug sitting on the counter for him, "it does appear my little brother was nice enough to make coffee. Anyway, what did you have that was so vital to tell us?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, that. I almost forgot," D.J. said. He hefted himself up onto the countertop and watched Wyatt with the dishes silently thankful that he still lived with his Dad and that his father did most of that stuff. "It's the talk of the Underworld."

Wyatt looked up sharply at that. First for the fact that it meant D.J. had _been_ in the Underworld and second that there was anything going on worth discussion. He placed another dish into the washer and then rummaged under the counter for the detergent, "Your Dad isn't going to like that you were down there. I'm not sure how I feel about it either. Is that what you meant by it's not the first near miss you've had today?"

"Hey, the information is valuable and I'm careful," D.J. said, "usually. Someone recognized me as being a friend of yours when he noticed me listening to their conversation, so I got out of there real quick-like. As for my Dad, he's not going to _know_ I was in the Underworld unless someone tells him." D.J. paused casually looking at his fingernails, "So, do you want to hear what I found out or not?"

Wyatt threw a dishtowel in his face, before he closed the dishwasher and pressed the start button, "Quit beating around the bush."

"Someone murdered another witch in Salem last night," D.J. said, "and everyone was in an uproar because rumor has it, it wasn't done by a demon. Good, I see I have your attention now. Before I had to cut and run, I heard that it's connected to the four other witches that were killed here in and around Boston three weeks ago, right about the time you were moving in. That's why it caught my interest; I've been trying to find out who was responsible since the first one. That was the biggest activity the Underworld has seen in a long time and until today I hadn't had any leads on it at all. You know as well as I do the Underworld has been laying low… Where did you say your brother was again?"

"Laundry."

D.J. nodded, "Maybe we should wait 'til he gets back up here so I don't have to repeat myself. He's going to want to hear about this too."

------------------------------------Fade to Black----------------------------------------

"Leo, what did you do with the tickets?" Piper Halliwell called up the stairs to her husband. It was still early in San Francisco, but they were going to be pushing their time short to get to the airport and through security to catch their plane on time.

"I left them on the kitchen counter," the man's voice called from downstairs, "I still don't understand why we're flying. Either of the boys could come out here and orb us." He emerged from their bedroom, dragging a pair of suitcases towards the stairs. "Or why you had to pack so much. We're going to be there for a week Piper, not for a month."

Leo Wyatt smiled lovingly down at his wife, even as he started to drag their suitcases down the stairs to meet her. He had given up everything for his family, to be with his wife and to help raise their two sons Wyatt and Chris. When he had first met Piper he had been the Whitelighter for her and her sisters. They had been through so many trials together through the years, but in the end everything had worked out. True love always did find ways to come out on top.

Piper wrinkled her nose at him, but the expression was a fond one, "We're flying because I want to. We are going to go and visit our children like normal parents, on a plane. And you, Mister, are going to enjoy it." Piper reached back to pull her salt-and-pepper hair back into a ponytail before she moved to the kitchen to get the tickets, "At the rate you're moving we're going to be late."

"You're the one that keeps forgetting things," Leo reminded her, "the weight of these bags proves it. I'm really not looking forward to flying, Piper. If you don't want to bother the boys, we could just call Paige. It would be much easier to…"

"No!" Piper retorted from the kitchen, interrupting his argument. He had been at this ever since she had booked the tickets. "I already bought the tickets Leo. No refunds. We are going to visit our children by plane like normal parents," the woman repeated tersely, "as in _without_ magic." She emerged from the kitchen with eyebrows raised and her mouth set into a firm line that brooked no nonsense. "Can you just put the bags in the car? I've got one last thing to get from the attic."

Leo sighed, but complied. He'd had to give it one last try, but his wife had put her foot down it seemed. When Piper Halliwell made up her mind about something, there was no changing her course. That was part of what he loved about her. Leo watched as she climbed the stairs of the house that she had lived in all her life, heading up towards the attic. It was a familiar sight and one that he had never grown tired of after all these years. Lifting the bags as she disappeared from view, Leo headed out the front door to load up their car.

The stairs of the old Manor House creaked as Piper climbed up them. Her hand trailed along the banister fondly. The house had been in their family for generations, her children the most recent to have grown up inside its walls. That brought a faint sadness to her face since her boys were now across the country, but at the same time a warm sense of pride that they were living their lives. The next generation of Halliwells. Her boys. And the only boys that had been born into the family tracing all the way back to their ancestor Melinda Warren.

In a family that had been dominated by women for generations, Piper knew that her boys had a special destiny set ahead for them. She had just been glad that they had been able to have a semi-normal childhood before they had to face whatever lay ahead for them. In one corner of the attic a blanket lay on the floor at the base of an object, where it had previously covered one piece of her eldest son's destiny. Excalibur, the Sword in the Stone, awaited him for when he was ready for it. It waited for when Piper, the Lady in the Lake, passed it on to the next King Arthur. Piper crossed the attic towards where their family's Book of Shadows rested on its stand, only after she had recovered the sword. Not yet. She hadn't come up here for Excalibur.

With careful hands Piper lifted the Book of Shadows from its stand. Wyatt and Chris weren't expecting her to be bringing them a house-warming gift. Her sons would be more than surprised at the one that she was bringing them. She tenderly ran her hand over the triquetra on the cover of the book. "Time to officially pass you on to the next generation…"

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	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters Chris and Wyatt Halliwell, or Charmed, although, I wish I did… because some of the crap we had to put up with in Seasons 7 and 8 would have been replaced by something a lot better… like a spin-off featuring the Halliwell brothers. I don't own 'em. Not making any money. Etc. Etc.

**Author's Note:** This is the story-version of a set of scripts I am working on for a spin-off… namely the Pilot Episode to eventually be converted to screenplay format for the contest on _thecharmedsons_ website. This is set 18 years after the series finale of Charmed, when Chris and Wyatt would be taking over the Halliwell legacy. Someone asked who D.J. was, he is the half-manticore baby from the episode "Little Monsters" in Season Six, just all grown up. I kind of picture him being played by Colin Hanks (who was on Roswell, when that show was on the air). Samara, however, is my own creation… Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next installment. As usual, please read and review. Thanks to those of you who have already!

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**Destined: The Charmed Sons**

**Episode 1.1, Pilot: The Crucible**

**Chapter Two**

The laundry room in the apartment building had rather outdated washing machines, but for being so many years old they were still in remarkably good working order. Chris just hoped that there was still one open when he got down there. With only three washing machines for a building that housed several residents the chances were usually good that they were in use. Most of the residents were college students or young adults with their first apartments - which often enough equated to the same thing. There were a lot of new faces in the building, including Wyatt and Chris, and there weren't any schedules for the use of the washers. In that respect, living in this building was almost as bad as the dorms where Chris had lived his first year away at school, but it was an exchange for the low rent and the close-to-campus location.

Chris hefted the laundry basket as he made his way down the steps. One of the neighbors dodged around him, pounding down the stairs while he slung his backpack over his shoulder. Chris barely managed to dodge out of the way and keep hold of the laundry. The younger Halliwell brother shook his head with a grin. "Ya know a simple 'sorry!' goes a long way!" he called after the disappearing back as the fellow dodged around the corner and vanished from sight. Chris removed himself away from the wall he'd pressed against to avoid being trampled and winced as he heard a woman's voice yelp and the sound of either someone dropping something or falling.

"Uh oh," Chris mumbled, starting to hurry down towards the sound still carrying the basket of clothes. The dark-haired young man rounded the corner and looked down the stairs towards the next landing. "You okay?" he called down when he saw the figure rubbing her lower back as she bent to pick up items that had been scattered from a now relatively crushed box. Books and belongings were scattered haphazardly across the landing.

"Peachy," the young woman grumbled, "There's nothing quite like being trampled by your new neighbors. He didn't even stop to see if I was okay." She lifted her head to look up at the laundry-toting figure descending the steps towards her and froze with the book she'd just picked up halfway from the ground, looking at him skeptically. "…Thanks for caring. There aren't a lot of people that do, it seems, these days."

Chris set the laundry basket down and bent to help the young woman pick up her scattered belongings. "You don't have to thank me. He almost trampled me too and it's beginning to become a weekly occurrence. That was Kevin, he lives in 4C if you want to get even later," Chris said, holding another book out towards her.

She was about five-feet seven, give-or-take an inch, with sandy, shoulder length hair and eyes the color of warm honey. "You don't have to help me," she said politely, watching him like she was trying to determine some ulterior motive to his kindness. The offered book was taken with a reserved smile as she stuffed it in the box with the others. "Thank you though. Really."

"I'm Chris, Chris Halliwell," he offered belatedly, grabbing up a couple of candles that had rolled towards the next flight of stairs down from the landing. This time when she thanked him, he just said, "You're welcome," rather than arguing with her that he was just doing what anyone would (or at least should) in this situation. Chris decided to make some small talk while they worked, "Just moving in?"

The young woman didn't offer her name straight away, tucking more belongings into the damaged box, "Yes, actually. I just recently relocated here to Boston for a new work assignment." Her smile rose just a bit more, when she processed his name. Chris missed the flicker of recognition that passed over her honey-colored eyes while he was bending to scoop up some more of her belongings from the floor. The young woman looked away quickly, grabbing a shoebox filled with items that had fallen from the larger box. "It's nice to meet you, Chris. I'm Samara."

"That's not a name you hear very often," Chris said, "Hebrew name meaning 'guardian', right?"

Samara looked up at him again with a somewhat sharp motion, and eyes that narrowed suspiciously at the back of his head. "It is." She answered carefully.

As if reading her mind, that she had to be wondering how he knew that, Chris replied, "One of my Aunts has a… friend… in Iran by that name. I probably wouldn't know that otherwise, but she likes to talk about the people she visits in her travels." There was only a slight hesitation when he said the word friend; he had very nearly said 'charge' instead. It was one of his Aunt Paige's charges to be exact. "It's a nice name," Chris said, and then fell silent.

The pair of them continued picking up her belongings in awkward silence for a bit, with each one looking at each other intermittently when they thought they other wasn't. Finally Samara rose, rubbing her lower back, "Thanks again for your help, really. I've got a lot more boxes to drag up, with any luck without being barreled out of the way by more over zealous college students." Samara picked up her box. With a gesture that appeared somewhat nervous she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She was trying to find a way to gracefully leave the conversation so they could both get back to their business, although, she was slightly reluctant to leave his presence.

Chris beat her to it. The dark-haired man flashed her a friendly grin, "You're welcome. If you give me a few minutes to get some laundry started, I can give you a hand carrying some of your boxes up?" He really didn't have any ulterior motives, except to help someone out that he thought was in need of assistance. If it took away from his time to continue straightening the apartment so be it. That was just the sort of selfless thing typical of the young man's personality. Besides, it would do Wyatt some good to do some of the work at making the place presentable to their parents.

"Who says chivalry is dead?" Samara asked with a soft laugh that was only slightly forced. She had expected him to just go on about his day and leave her to her own devices. "That would be great. I'm moving into apartment 3B. If you don't change your mind, you can meet me up there. I'll even get some coffee started." With that, the young woman turned to begin climbing the stairs with a dancer's grace that was only marred by a faint indication of her stiffness from the tumble down the stairs.

"I won't change my mind," Chris said. He was glad to offer his help to someone in need. She wasn't an 'innocent' needing saving per se, but she had said that she was on her own here and in a new city. He could empathize with that, having been in the same boat himself two years ago. He had made friends in the area now, and now he had Wyatt around too. The dark-haired witch's sage colored eyes watched her for a beat longer before he started down the stairs to the laundry room once more.

She was moving into 3B, which was right next door to his and Wyatt's apartment in 3A. That was an interesting little coincidence. He hadn't even known that apartment was empty.

------------------------------Fade to Black-----------------------------

"I hate it when you do that," Wyatt scowled.

"Do what?" D.J. said in perfect innocence. At least the expression he had was meant to be the image of perfect innocence.

Wyatt knew better. He gave D.J. a look that plainly stated that he could see right through him. "Start to tell me something like that and then spout off some nonsense about waiting for Chris before you'll tell any more. A witch was killed in Salem, wasn't a demon that did it, hey, Wyatt -- let's wait for _Chris_ now that I've dropped this big cliffhanger on you."

"I just don't like repeating myself needlessly," the shaggy-haired fellow said, pouring himself a cup of coffee and moving to one of the barstools.

"But you do that all the time," Wyatt griped, the grouchiness from his lack of sleep returning, "You don't like repeating yourself, but I hate when someone gets all: hey I have something important to tell you, so I'm going to tell you just enough to make you crazy with impatience because I just know you'll want the rest of the details, but I won't give them to you yet. I'd rather sit here and watch you suffer because I told you that something big just happened and I enjoy knowing something that you don't know. All those 'I know something you don't know' secrets make me crazy!"

"Impressive, I don't think you took a breath through that entire little monologue there. Are you done?" D.J. asked.

Wyatt exaggerated taking a breath and leaned on the counter, staring at D.J. "No, not unless you tell me what's going on."

"You really need to work on your patience, buddy," D.J. said, watching Wyatt grumble, then start to pace back and forth. D.J. picked up his coffee mug and took a sip. He was rather comfortable in his seat, watching Wyatt pace with noncommittal interest. The half-manticore was about half a year younger than Wyatt, which made him older than Chris, but sometimes the older witch seemed like the younger of the two brothers. Like right now, when he was wheedling to try to get D.J. to tell him before Chris got back.

"You could just tell me, you know," Wyatt said, "If you don't want to repeat yourself when Chris gets back, I can give him a recap. Hmm? How 'bout it?"

"I don't know, I was kind of intending to tell the both of you at the same time," D.J. said. He took another sip of his coffee and smirked. Who was he kidding, he knew that eventually Wyatt would say something that would convince him to go ahead and tell him, but he really would rather wait for Chris. It was just amusing to see the lengths that Wyatt would go to before he got to that point. Wyatt walked past again, took several steps, turned again and paced back once more. The half-manticore was right, Wyatt needed to work on his patience.

The blonde witch sighed and stopped his pacing long enough to grab his own cup of coffee. "The suspense is killing me D.J." Wyatt complained. Suddenly he had an idea and the sparkle of it showed in his crystal blue eyes. Wyatt set his coffee cup down and grabbed D.J. by his arms, "If you tell me, I won't tell your dad you were in the Underworld by yourself."

"I'm _going_ to tell you Wyatt, when Chris gets here," D.J. said. His green eyes did widen behind his glasses though as he gave his friend a look, trying to determine if Wyatt meant his threat. His dad would kill him if he knew he'd been in the Underworld again. Damn Wyatt and knowing him too well, to know what would get to him the most. He weighed whether the risk was worth it. "The last time I told you what was going on and Chris wasn't here, you decided to go off and handle it all on your own."

"I _did_ handle it all on my own," Wyatt reminded him.

"As I recall, you got caught in an alley that someone had cast an anti-orbing spell on and almost got shot by a Darklighter because you couldn't wait an hour until Chris got out of class before trying to pull some harebrained Power of One act," D.J. glared, trying to brush the other man's hands off of his arms. Wyatt held on stubbornly, "You're hurting me, but Chris'll hurt me more if I tell you and you go running off without him again."

"I am not, I'm barely touching you. I just don't want you shimmering out of here before you tell me what's going on," Wyatt said. He rolled his eyes, "D.J. I'm a big boy and I would have gotten out of that. Instead I had to figure out how to get both myself _and_ my little brother out of there without either of us getting shot."

D.J. laughed, "What?! That is so _not _the way it happened and you know it. You're leaving some holes in that story that I could drive my truck through! If Chris heard you say that---"

"Chris, Chris, Chris," Wyatt rolled his eyes, "D.J. focus here. All I'm saying is that I've handled stuff on my own plenty of times and I don't _need_ to have Chris there to get something done. We've been on the other side of the country from each other for two years working independently. I don't need someone to hold my hand, least of all my baby brother. Yeah, you remember him, _Chris_… who, I might add, is the one that runs headlong into trouble _by himself_ too often, and gets in over his head because he's not powerful enough to deal with the situation! Not me." Wyatt released D.J. but stood right there in front of him, as if ready to grab him again.

"I don't know, you've got this whole cocky 'I am the Twice Blessed' invincible thing going on for you right now," D.J. tossed at Wyatt, then flashed him a smile over the rim of his coffee cup, "It's kind of sexy, in a delusions of grandeur sort of way. You're totally turning me on and I'm not into blondes."

Wyatt let out an exasperated breath, and swatted D.J. on the arm, "Why can't you just be bad at keeping secrets?"

"What, you mean like you?" D.J. asked with a smirk. "I'm just trying to look out for your best interests T.B.. Do you really want to see Chris sulking around for the next few weeks because you left him out? I don't know about you, but I hate watching the Chris-pity-party-parade marching around. You know he lives for this. And what's got _you _so gung-ho this morning anyway?" The last D.J. added with a suspicious sounding mirth, raising his eyebrows above the rims of his glasses at his friend. "Chris usually has to light a fire under you to get you this eager to kick demonic ass. Does this have something to do with your parents coming to town?"

"It has everything to do with my parents coming to town," Wyatt responded automatically, then turned to glare at D.J. as the rest of what his friend said caught up with him. "…he does not have to light a fire under me. I just don't go _looking_ for trouble like he does all the time. Plenty of it comes our way on its own."

D.J. finished off his coffee and got up to get another cup, "Funny, you're the one that's looking for trouble this morning."

"Remind me why I'm friends with you again?" Wyatt grumbled.

"Yeah, see, this sleep deprivation thing is not a good look for you. You're no fun when you're cranky, you're taking a little good natured teasing to heart," D.J. reached over to punch Wyatt lightly in the shoulder, "You know the two of you work best together. It's been proven time and again."

"Chris is always telling me I should take more initiative and go after demons and such before they come to us. Keep them on the defensive and running scared like they have been for the last couple of years. Well, I'm going to take the initiative this time," Wyatt said.

"Yeah, but you know as well as I do that Chris didn't mean doing it alone." D.J. didn't like the sparkle that he saw in Wyatt's eye now. Nothing good could come of it.

"Am I the Twice-Blessed Witch or not?"

"Just a few minutes ago you were complaining about everyone expecting you to be perfect--" D.J. started, but was interrupted by Wyatt.

"That is so not the point! Initially anything has to have an investigation right? To get more facts. I can do that, I'm a journalist for heaven's sake. I don't need Chris to do that. I'd rather he stay here, be safe, finish this cleaning madness for our parents and I'll take care of this on my own so he doesn't have to. He'll be none the wiser and everything will be fine. We'll probably even be back before he ever notices that I left."

"I really don't think that--"

"I've made up my mind," Wyatt said stubbornly.

"You two really work better togeth--"

"We are not attached at the hip. If it turns out that I do need him, I can yell."

"Yeah, but he'll be back from the laundry any minute and--"

"AND he has class. We don't need to bother him," Wyatt said, smiling again as he stood up, "We'll take care of this… you can tell me the rest on the way."

"On the way? Wyatt? On the way where?"

"Salem," the Twice-Blessed Witch said, grabbing hold of his friend's arm again suddenly and orbing the two of them out before the half-manticore could argue any more.

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

Apartment 3B was set up almost identically to the one that Chris shared with his older brother Wyatt. The standard furniture and the counters were stacked with the unpacked boxes of someone just moving in. Next to the door was Chris's empty laundry basket that he had set aside to help Samara out. The apartment is empty until Chris, who holds a box in his arms, pushes the door open. The dark-haired young man is smiling good-naturedly as Samara enters next, also laden with a big box.

Coffee is brewing on a coffee maker that had been pulled out from a box labeled kitchen before they made their latest run down to her vehicle. Samara sets her box down, motioning Chris the rest of the way into the apartment and gesturing to where he can set his box down.

"So, what did you say you do again?" Chris asked her.

"I didn't," Samara responded as she, slid the box out of the way to rummage in the one marked 'kitchen'. The woman's honey eyes lift briefly to look towards Chris. It was like, even though she had decided to let him help her and was grateful for the help, she still wasn't sure what to make of him. Or whether to trust him, but Chris could have sworn more than once she had looked at him like she knew him. Samara continued, offering at least a little bit more information about herself, "I just said that my company had reassigned me. I work for an agency that sends supervisors to look over teams that are stationed around the world. I've been working for them for a few years now and I guess my latest assignment is something of a promotion. I'm finally supervising a team here in Boston, making sure they have what they need and aren't making any mistakes that could cost the company, that sort of thing. It's really boring."

"Sounds kind of exciting actually, at least in the vague way you've put it. Makes it seem like you're some sort of spy or something. Like this TV show I used to watch with my Aunt Phoebe, still comes on reruns… about this woman who is a part of this spy-network, but also secretly works for the CIA as a double agent," Chris said, leaning on the counter for lack of anything constructive to do.

Chris couldn't decide if Samara looked amused at his comment or not, she had turned back to unpacking the box marked kitchen, "Trust me, it's really boring, but the pay is rewarding. I doubt you want to hear the details. What about you? Do you work anywhere?"

"I put in volunteer hours at the hospital, but I sort of have to for my major."

"Right, college student… see, I keep forgetting that. You're pretty mature compared to most," Samara said. She couldn't have been much older than him. Maybe Wyatt's age if Chris had to guess. One thing his mother had taught him was that you never ask a woman her age. "It could just be the fact that you cared about someone other than yourself. So, what's your major?"

"Pre-med," Chris answered. Samara had turned around to look at him with a small smile and upraised brows above her honey-eyes, "What? You look surprised."

The young woman turned her back to Chris again, frowning into the box and then moving to open another not finding what she was looking for, "Impressed actually… and not so surprised. I had you pegged for medical school or social work. You cared enough to stop to help me, when you could have just blown me off and completely ignored me. Most people would have. What made you decide to go into medicine?"

Chris watched her rummage through her latest box and caught a glimpse of something black and silvery metallic tucked in there with just a hint of something that had feathers. His mind had to be playing tricks on him, but he could swear that it looked like a crossbow. For just a heartbeat, the young witch froze at the counter, trying to get a better look without appearing to snoop in her things. Considering the damage crossbows had inflicted on him in the hands of Darklighters over the years, it was something that had been ingrained in his brain to be cautious of. She didn't look like a Darklighter though.

"You okay?" Samara asked, pulling two coffee mugs from the box and closing it before he could get a better look. She turned to look at him with concern, "Chris?"

He gave a small start and then had the sense of mind to blush. What was the matter with him? Thinking something like that! _I'm such a paranoid little freak_, he thought. It was probably just another kitchen appliance of some kind. "I'm sorry, I'm fine, really. What was your question?"

Samara looked at him oddly, shook her head and went to pour them both some coffee, "What made you decide to go into medicine?"

"My Dad's a doctor," Chris answered, "It was either medicine or photography like my Aunt Prue. My brother's into journalism. I used to think if I did photography we'd make a good team, but in the end I decided to go with my heart. We're still a good team, but we have to have our own lives too. Can't do _everything_ together."

Samara held out the coffee mug to Chris, holding her own in her hands and blowing the steam from the surface of it, "I had an older brother growing up. He was always telling me what to do, or not telling me things that he was going to do that might be remotely dangerous to me so that I wouldn't get involved, worrying about me constantly. Kind of annoying, but I knew it meant he loved me. I always preferred him doing that than ignoring me completely. What's your brother like?"

"Wyatt? Sometimes like an overbearing and overprotective shadow, sometimes like a little kid that I need to give a swift kick to, to get him going," Chris said with a smirk the crossbow-or-not situation forgotten again. "I should probably go let him know where I am. He'll be wondering why I didn't come back and might send out a search party. You mind?"

"Not at all," Samara said.

"It's right next door," Chris said, "I'll be right back and we can get some more boxes."

Chris took a quick sip of his coffee, set the mug down and then went to grab the laundry basket by the door. He slipped out with a casual smile to his new neighbor. As the door closed behind Chris, Samara blew out a breath, brushed her hair behind her ears and bent to pick up that box that Chris had been so suspicious of. She carried it out of the room.

Meanwhile, Chris opened the door to his apartment and stepped inside. The laundry basket was dropped next to the door, "Hey, Wy… can you go down and check the laundry in about twenty minutes? I'm next door helping our new neighbor move in…" Chris frowned, stepping further into the apartment, "Wy? Hey, Wyatt?"

Scratching his head, Chris said aloud to the empty room, "Where'd he go…?"

--------------------------Commercial Break------------------------------


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters Chris and Wyatt Halliwell, or Charmed, although, I wish I did… because some of the crap we had to put up with in Seasons 7 and 8 would have been replaced by something a lot better… like a spin-off featuring the Halliwell brothers. I don't own 'em. Not making any money. Etc. Etc.

**Author's Note:** This is the story-version of a set of scripts I am working on for a spin-off… namely the Pilot Episode. I'd originally intended to convert it to screenplay format for the contest on _thecharmedsons_ website, but I'm definitely not making the deadline now. Too many setbacks, including the weather have delayed the process. That's okay, I'm still going to finish this… I know some of you are chomping at the bit for me to get to writing on the other twenty-one episodes of Season One after you've heard my ideas for them. I just hope that this one or those don't disappoint you and that you enjoy reading them as much as I'm enjoying writing them. Please read and review. Thanks to those of you who have already!

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**Destined: The Charmed Sons**

**Episode 1.1, Pilot: The Crucible**

**Chapter Three**

Chris made his way further into the apartment, leaving the door open behind him as he entered. He knew Wyatt wasn't here and much to his frustration knew Wyatt wasn't in the building either. Beyond that, the elder witchlighter had masked his presence from the younger. Chris sighed in annoyance and walked towards the kitchen area to grab something to write Wyatt a note on. "I see how it is, you do the dishes and then run," Chris complained out loud. Wyatt hadn't even had the courtesy to leave him a note.

Well, Chris was definitely going to leave a note. He had an urge to write Wyatt a novel, he'd settle for something a bit simpler. He pulled open a drawer and fished out a large yellow notepad and a ballpoint pen. Chris looked at the pen, tossed it back into the drawer and pulled a Sharpie marker out instead. The bolder the words were written, the less ability Wyatt would have to say that he hadn't noticed the note.

While Chris wrote he grumbled to himself under his breath about the injustice of being left to clean up a mess all by himself. "I must have 'Waste Management' stamped on my forehead somewhere… oh, wait, I do, and it's _Wyatt_ Management. Demons he can handle, but not dust bunnies. It would serve him right if I cast a spell on his room so that he couldn't leave until he cleaned it up… Oooh, wait a minute…"

That was a tempting idea. He couldn't take the credit for it. He wished he could say that he had thought of it himself, but that was one of their mother's inventions. He continued working on his note as he entertained the idea, smirking at the possibility of booby-trapping Wyatt's room like Piper had done a few times when they were teenagers.

_Thanks for doing the dishes. Laundry is downstairs in the machine. _  
_We've got a new neighbor. I'm helping her move in and then I'm going to class. _  
_I'll see you this evening._

_P.S. Clean your room, you big slob. Someone could get hurt. _

Chris tore the page from the yellow notepad, then with a laugh pulled a roll of Police Caution tape out of the back of the drawer. He was sure Wyatt didn't know that he still had it. They'd gotten it from one of their friends as a gag gift for their housewarming party and he'd been hiding it from Wyatt until just such an occasion that it might be useful. Now, he knew exactly what he was going to use it for. He taped the note to Wyatt to the door to his brother's room like a Police crime scene Notice, and then crossed the rest of the tape back and forth over the doorway.

He stretched the last piece of caution tape over the door, working the words he was about to say in his head.

"My brother dear, who dwells in here,  
When you again in your room appear,  
Your messy space you must clean and clear,  
Or trapped inside you'll be held austere."

When he was finished, the dark-haired young man stood back to admire his work with a smug grin. "Teach you to run off and expect me to finish picking up after you. It's not personal gain if it's teaching him a lesson…"

Chris was chuckling to himself as he started towards the door to return to helping Samara when the phone rang. "Probably Wyatt with some lame excuse for why he had to run out," he mused aloud as he crossed to answer it.

The main phone unit was mounted to the wall in the kitchen with its small video panel. Chris picked up the earpiece of the phone and tapped the button on the side of it to answer. The magical snare he'd just set for Wyatt still had him laughing a bit when he answered the phone. "Joe's Morgue. You stab 'em, we slab 'em," Chris said chirpily. He stood in front of the video panel, grinning wryly when he realized who was on the other end.

"Cute," Piper's voice said from the other end as her image flickered onto the video panel in front of Chris, "You know those sorts of things worked a whole lot better before the invention of video phones."

"True, but they're still classics and fun," Chris replied, "What's up?"

"Your father and I just finished going through Security at the Airport and we're waiting for our flight. I thought I'd check in with you boys. Where's your brother?"

"Heck if I know," Chris said, "He bailed on me. I'm sure he'll be back in time to pick you two up at the airport though. Where's Dad?"

Piper smiled, "Nervously pacing in front of the windows and looking out at the planes on the runway. You'd think the man had never flown before."

"You guys are supposed to land at around seven, right?" Chris asked.

"About seven-thirty. We're on United 134 to Chicago, then United 882 to Boston. I emailed Wyatt the flights last night, so he should have everything" Piper said. She paused for a moment and Chris watched as the digital image of his mother frowned. His mother's eyebrows furrowed in concern, "Is everything okay?"

Chris chuckled, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know, just had a feeling," she answered, "It's probably nothing."

"Nope, everything's fine if you don't consider Wyatt's attempt at leaving me to finish straightening up for you guys on my own. I'm sure he'll have a doozy of an excuse as to why he had to up and leave. I've got a couple of things to get done before class, Mom, so I'd better get going…"

"_Now boarding zones one and two for United Flight 134 to Chicago…"_ Chris heard a voice say in the background.

"That's our flight anyway," Piper said, "I'll call again when we land in Chicago. Love you!"

"Ditto, Mom," Chris said, "Don't give Dad too hard a time about flying." Chris smiled as his mother winked before she disconnected. He turned the phone off, replaced the earpiece in its spot and ducked out of the apartment again without noticing the busted lamp that would have been a giveaway that could give him a hint that something more going on beyond cleaning-duty-desertion.

Samara was walking back out of her door into the hallway when he stepped out. "Was he ready to send out a search party for you?" she asked Chris.

Chris shook his head, "Nope. Actually, I might send out one for _him_ later. He decided to run off somewhere and didn't even leave a note. He's trying to get out of cleaning up, but when he gets home he's going to have no choice. Like I told you earlier, sometimes he's the overprotective big brother type and some times he needs a good solid kick."

The young woman laughed a bit.

"Ready to get some more boxes?" The dark-haired witch glanced at his watch, "I can spare another half an hour before I need to head to classes."

"Sure, I'll take the help for as long as I can get it," she said and the two of them headed towards the stairwell together.

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

Almost exactly thirty minutes later, Chris glanced at his watch after he set another box down on Samara's counter. "That's about all I can manage…"

"It's more than I could have gotten done in such a short time on my own," Samara said when she put down her own box. "Really, I'm not sure it's possible to thank you enough. Some of this stuff is heavy, it would've taken me all day."

Chris shrugged and raked a hand through his brown hair, "It really was no trouble. I'm actually sorry I can't help you finish getting the rest of it out." His green eyes strayed to the spot where that box he'd thought he had seen a crossbow in earlier had been. The smile on his face came close to fading when he realized it wasn't there. Inwardly he scolded himself again for paranoia. She had been perfectly normal once she'd relaxed and accepted that he really was just a nice guy trying to help. In fact they'd been carrying on pleasant conversation.

Granted, she probably knew a lot more about him now and he still only knew her name, that she had an overprotective older brother, and a very vague explanation of her job. Living right next door, though, he was sure they would have plenty of time to get to know her better.

Samara leaned back against her counter, "Don't be. You've done plenty. I wouldn't want to be the cause for you being late for class. Getting you into trouble would be poor repayment for all the help you've given me. I have to say though; you're almost too good to be believable. It just makes me wonder if it's some scheme you have arranged with that guy from the forth floor… and if you've helped all the young women in this building move in so that you could charm them."

He grinned, "You'd be the first. Maybe I can introduce you to Wyatt later. I'll see you around."

"I'm looking forward to it. Bye Chris," Samara called after the dark-haired man as he headed out of her apartment. From the quick retreat he made, and the extra glance at his watch he made, she was sure that he had stayed just a bit longer than he probably should have. She really did hope that he hadn't made himself late to class because of her.

Samara pushed herself gracefully off of the counter and walked over to stand in the doorway in order to watch Chris leave. The friendly smile gracing her features dulled and her honey-hued eyes narrowed slightly. In an acutely paranoid manner, she looked down the hallway in both directions making sure that no one else was around. She stepped back from the door and closed it, sliding the deadbolt into place with a click.

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

A swirl of brilliant blue and white lights coalesced and formed into a pair of figures behind a group of old buildings. One of the two staggered away from the other as though he were drunk and doubled over with his hands resting on his knees. D.J. grimaced, his dark mop of hair hanging down over his glasses into his eyes as he tried to catch his breath from the disturbing method of transportation.

"I… hate…" he panted out, swallowing back a wave of nausea, "…you…"

"You don't mean that," Wyatt said, completely un-phased. The muscular blonde straightened his shirt and patted D.J. on the back.

"How about… I… hate… orbing…?" the half-manticore groaned, looking up, "I feel like I'm going to be sick… it's so… ugh…"

Wyatt smirked and shook his head, "Pull yourself together. Now, where was this church at again? I think I got us close."

D.J.'s stomach was doing summersaults. Demons, or in his case _half-_demons were _never_ meant for orbing. He covered his mouth with the back of his right hand as he slowly straightened himself and made a face at Wyatt.

"If you do that too long it might stick that way," Wyatt quipped, "Should be right around the corner, right?"

With the hand he wasn't using to ensure he wasn't going to lose his breakfast with, D.J. gestured upwards to point at the steeple visible above the other buildings. Wyatt's face practically shone with satisfaction and he grabbed D.J.'s free hand to start dragging his friend after him again. Walking off the nausea was the best thing for him.

"…Chris is going to kill me… right before he kills you…" D.J. groaned as he let himself be dragged along behind Wyatt. Orbing like that always threw his shimmering off for at least an hour until whatever the whole transportation of turning into purity and light had done to his demonic half passed. Until then, he was as good as Wyatt's prisoner and his friend knew it. Too bad hitch hiking was out of the question.

Around the corner a crime scene parameter had been established with yellow crime scene tape and a couple of black and white squad cars, a fire truck, a coroner's van, and one unmarked police car. A press van, complete with its reporter and camera crew were off to one side too, adding to the break-neckers come to see what had happened. Official personnel were moving in and out of the building.

Wyatt stopped forcibly dragging D.J. behind him as he got close enough to get a better look. It wasn't like his scruffy friend had anywhere to go. Wyatt's size let him sort of muscle his way through the crowd that were quietly murmuring with one another about the tragedy that had taken place in their community last night. Most of what he picked up from the conversations going on did nothing to help him learn anything. He wished he had brought his press pass with him as an after thought. It was a bit late for that now. He'd have to find another way to get more information.

Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like he was being watched and not really by anyone in the crowd. He turned to look around and his eyes fell on a large, black-feathered crow resting on the roof of a building across the street. His eyebrows furrowed in the direction of the bird. He could swear the thing was looking _right_ at him. Shaking the feeling off as nonsense, he pushed his way to the front of the gathering.

D.J. didn't have as much success at moving through the crowd as Wyatt did.

"The woman that lives above the building across the street saw the flames and called the fire department," Wyatt heard one woman saying.

"Such a shame to happen to a historic building."

"I can't believe something like this happened right under everyone's noses."

A few gasps sounded as the coroner moved out, pushing a white cloth draped cart ahead of him. Again the murmurs in the crowd started up. Not only had this been arson, but also possibly murder. Wyatt glanced back towards D.J. to see his friend trying to battle through to get back up beside him. Clearly the demonic community was just a step ahead in the knowledge beyond the mortal community.

Wyatt moved away from the crowd towards the side of the building, walking like he belonged. That was the best way to avoid questions, at least from those who might not know that he belonged. He wasn't going to learn anything else just standing there on the sidelines. He had to get closer.

D.J. ground his teeth together in frustration when he saw Wyatt start off. "For Pete's sake," he whined. Wyatt ducked under the crime scene tape towards the side of the building and much to D.J.'s surprise not a single person stopped him. "What is the standard for law enforcement these days?" he muttered to himself. One of the other men in the crowd looked at him and D.J. just flashed the guy a smile. When he turned back towards Wyatt

Wyatt was actually walking rather boldly towards the door of the church, surprised that no one had asked him just what he thought he was doing yet, when a woman's voice called out to him from behind.

"Wyatt? Wyatt Halliwell, it _is_ you!"

The blonde witch turned around to look towards the source. Only his widened blue eyes broke the 'I belong here' act that he had been putting on in order to get closer. She was approaching him. A woman of average height, made just slightly taller thanks to pair of smart looking black heels, dressed in a navy blue suit. Long, dyed-dark curls were swept back from her ivory complexion. The woman's brown eyes were fixed on Wyatt as she strode towards him purposefully. He was caught.

With a somewhat nervous laugh and a smile, Wyatt greeted the woman he hadn't expected to see again, least of all here, in a million years. "Andrea… uh… hey…"

"Hey yourself, Halliwell. Just _what_ do you think you're doing?" the woman, Andrea, asked with a raised eyebrow. She had reached him now and was looking expectantly at him for an answer.

"Would you believe me if I said I was sightseeing?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," Andrea mused, "At a crime scene?"

Wyatt moistened his lips and coughed, "Yes?" Then he folded his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows at her, adopting that demeanor of belonging again. "And what are _you_ doing?"

Andrea moved the coat of her suit aside to reveal the badge hanging at her waist, "Working."

There went Wyatt's bubble, completely burst. His arms dropped back to his sides and he cleared his throat, "I uh… I knew that. Right, working, I _knew _that."

"Still doesn't explain what you're doing here…"

Wyatt's blue eyes darted towards the crowd, "D.J.! Andrea, you remember D.J. don't you?"

The woman nodded to the young officer standing at the tape to let D.J. through and the shaggy-haired man joined the two of them after a small nodded greeting to Andrea and a disapproving look at Wyatt. Andrea tapped Wyatt's chest with her index finger, "You're avoiding my question Wyatt. Of course I remember D.J. He's at least has picked up his phone to call me every once in a while these last three years unlike _some_ people I know. I just talked to him two days ago."

"You did?" Wyatt looked at D.J. "You didn't tell me that."

D.J. just shrugged his shoulders and kept his mouth shut.

Andrea was scanning the crowd again, her lips pursed together as though searching for someone, "Alright, where is he?"

"Who?" Wyatt asked rather innocently.

"You _know_ who," Andrea said, "We've got Athos, Porthos… we're only missing Aramis."

That actually brought a smile to D.J.'s face again, references to entertainment history usually did. Be it obscure literature references or semi-contemporary pop-culture, D.J. was a walking Scategories Game of useless knowledge. If some of the game shows popular in the Eighties, Nineties, and early Zeros had still been on the air, he could have made it rich. Wyatt was looking like the reference was lost on him.

"I dunno, I always pictured Chris more as the d'Artagnon type myself," D.J. offered, "The Chris O'Donnell version." That caused more amusement to shine in his eyes behind his glasses, "Chris and Chris. Fitting. Can I be Porthos?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Andrea said warmly to D.J.

"Chris isn't here, it's just us," Wyatt interrupted the movie-trivia moment to speak to Andrea, "I didn't realize you were a cop now… you uh… you look good as a brunette…"

"A lot can happen in three years, Wyatt, but you might know some of that if you'd bothered to keep in touch with me," she said, some of the warmth leaving her tone. Not much, but it was enough to remind Wyatt of just how unhappy she was that he _hadn't_ kept in touch. "D.J. told me the other night that you've been in Boston for about a month now. Would it have killed you to look me up and give an old friend a call?"

Wyatt shifted his feet uncomfortably, "Can we go back to the line of questioning about what we're doing here? I liked that one better. I _meant_ to call you. It just sort of, slipped my mind. I've been busy…"

"You're as horrible a liar now as you were when we were teenagers," Andrea said, "Alright, so what are you doing here poking your nose around my crime scene like some reporter on the trail of a story?"

Wyatt didn't get a chance to answer her.

"Detective Payton?" a fellow in a dark suit called from the door into the scorched church.

Andrea held up a finger to him, and looked from Wyatt to D.J. and back again. "You two stay put. I've got a sneaking suspicion as to why you two are here. I'll see what I can do, but you're going to owe me explanations."

As soon as she had walked out of earshot, Wyatt turned to D.J. and hissed at him. "Just when were you going to mention to me that you've been playing phone tag with her?"

"I _meant_ to, but it just slipped my mind," D.J. said coyly. Wyatt balled up his fist and punched D.J. in the arm. While D.J. was rubbing his arm, Wyatt kept his eyes on Andrea and the man he guessed was her partner having a discussion on the steps of the church. "There's been nothing at all stopping you from picking up your phone and calling her Wyatt, except yourself. So don't blame me for your stubborn wounded pride."

Wyatt just cut his eyes at D.J. and made a 'hmpf' sound.

"I'll take that as your Neanderthal way of saying that you agree with me that it's entirely your own fault," D.J. said, "On the bright side, now maybe we'll be able to learn more about this without me having to call Chris to tell him that you got put in jail for entering a crime scene without permission and disturbing evidence, which I _know_ you would have done as soon as you got into that building."

"Yeah, this is a much better situation," Wyatt grumbled, "It's easy for you to talk like that, she's not your ex-girlfriend."

"Not really my type," D.J. said, "even if she is a brunette now."

"I don't think you know what your type _is_," Wyatt responded automatically.

Andrea was making her way back over to them and her partner was leading the other investigators out of the building.

"I'm sure this one is connected to the other four, but this one is a little different since it included the arson. Matt said he thought he recognized D.J from two of the other scenes. I gave him the good old 'you're a psychic' excuse. While I know you two aren't the average citizens and your reasons for looking into this are a bit more paranormal, you're _still_ civilians and this _is_ a crime scene," Detective Payton said, "You've got three minutes, you two. I don't know what you expect to find in there, I went over it with a fine-toothed comb. But seeing as I'm not quite as _blessed_ with talents as certain individuals, you might find something that I missed."

That was one good thing about Andrea Payton. She already knew about magic. She already knew about Wyatt, his brother, and even D.J. That was how she could already have a guess as to why D.J. and Wyatt were on the scene and why she had expected Chris to be there as well. She was a witch too.

As good as it was to have a friend in law enforcement, his parents and aunts had always had Darryl, Wyatt was a little unsure of how he felt about Andrea being that person for him. They hadn't exactly broken things off on the best of terms and then for him not to have even called her in four years to see how she was doing when his best friend had obviously kept in touch with her. Ugh.

"Thanks," Wyatt said, "I owe you one."

"I think you owe me more than one, Wyatt," Andrea said, "But we'll talk about that later." She held up three fingers and gestured to the door, "Get moving, the clock is ticking."

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

Wyatt was all business when he entered the building with D.J. He took in the scene with a critical eye. Maybe not of a police investigator, but that of an investigative reporter was just as good in some instances. From the large broken stained-glass window to the melted puddles of wax that had once been candles, Wyatt walked through the soot blackened and burned space in silence.

D.J. didn't dare interrupt him.

The broad-shouldered witch stopped and rested a hand on one of the singed pews, intending to use it for support as he bent to study the spot on the floor where the chalk outline had been drawn. That contact to the pew was all it took. Wyatt gasped as his eyes shut and his entire body stiffened like an electric shock had poured through him. The images came in a flooding rush that bombarded Wyatt's mind, forcing him to witness whatever it was fate chose to bestow upon the gift of premonition.

_A darkened room with a pentagram carved into a stone floor. Candles rested at each of the points and a crumpled body lay in the center of large symbol. The room was only illuminated by the candlelight, but there were robed figures and ever so faintly it could be made out that the room seemed much like a courtroom._

_A flash of light._

_Glass shattering inward as a massive axe-wielding figure leapt inside._

_A young woman backing away from the figure, trying to spout off a spell. The figure cleaving the young man she was with using the axe. Wyatt felt a chill as in the vision he watched the man fall lifelessly near the very pew that had sparked the vision. The axe-wielder sliced the woman next and she burst into flames. The murderous figure moved back to the body and yanked something from around the dead youth's neck._

_A flash of light._

Somehow the simple premonition had changed midstream. Wyatt felt himself being pulled, actually drawn into it. The images were no longer hazy, colorless flashes, but full color. Like he was actually experiencing this in person. He felt like he was actually there.

_The darkened room again. Only now Wyatt wasn't looking on it as an outside observer, but from the position of the figure in the center. Now bound and spread eagled like da Vinci's Vitruvian Man. He craned his neck to look around him, squinting into the dim light. Necklaces. Five necklaces, including the one he had just seen taken from the youth were placed at each of the points around him. Wyatt tried to move his hands and legs, but they were bound. All he could do was lift his head to look towards the shadows. The large figure with the axe stepped forward from the other robed and hooded figures, looming over him. Poised at his head. _

_Raising the axe. _

_The axe descending towards his neck. He tightened his jaw in preparation for the blow he knew was going to come, but he would look his killer in his eyes when he died._

Wyatt cried out and jerked his hand away from the pew as though it was still hot from the flames. He was glad that D.J. was there to grab him when his legs nearly gave out from the swift wash of exhaustion from whatever that just was hit him, covering up the fading pain. He knew most of the color was absent from his face as he gasped for breath.

"Wy?" D.J. asked in concern, supporting Wyatt until he was sure he had his footing back.

"…I… I'm okay…" Wyatt reassured in a voice that sounded half like he had expected not to be. Images of the axe coming towards his neck and the lingering pain of having _felt_ it danced in his head again and he swallowed hard. Wyatt lifted a hand to his neck, feeling it to be sure everything was still attached. He lifted his eyes to look at D.J. and smiled weakly, "…that was new."

--------------------------Commercial Break------------------------------

**Author's Note**: There, Chapter Three (Or, technically Chapter Four if you count the Prologue) is finished now. :) Yes, I intentionally named her "Andy" before anyone asks... dear, sweet Trudeau, that's my little homage to thee. Now things are going to start picking up. Bwah hah hah.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Look at that, you made me cry… because I _still_ don't own Chris and Wyatt Halliwell or Charmed. I'm not making any money writing this. Blah, blah, blah… finish the disclaimer however you like. I'm going to go find a tissue.

**Author's Note:** With this Chapter, I've pretty much reached the halfway point. Since I don't have a lot of time left to say anything else, and don't really have a lot to say at the moment anyway: Read and Review!

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**Destined: The Charmed Sons**

**Episode 1.1, Pilot: The Crucible**

**Chapter Four**

Wyatt leaned on D.J. as he tried to catch his breath. The half-manticore kept looking at him in concern as the color slowly began to return to Wyatt's face and his pulse returned to normal. Wyatt rubbed his neck again before he finally let go of D.J. to stand on his own without support.

"What do you mean 'that was new'?" D.J. inquired, "What was new? You've gotten premonitions since we were Seniors in High School..."

"Not like _this_, I haven't," Wyatt said, his blue eyes looking dubiously at the pew. He tentatively put his hand on it again, but this time nothing happened. He wasn't quite sure whether to be worried or relieved. D.J. was just looking at him in confusion now.

"It was like I was _there_ D.J. like, I don't know..." Wyatt paused trying to think of a way to describe it, "It was kind of like I astral projected myself into the premonition somehow. But I don't _do_ astral projection. I saw everything first hand, just like I'm looking at you right now... and felt it too."

Wyatt was touching his neck again and D.J. raised an eyebrow at him above his glasses, "Felt what?" Wyatt shook his head, unwilling to say, so D.J. sighed and changed his question, "Alright then, what did you see?"

"A big guy with an axe, killing a male witch right here," the blonde gestured to the spot, "and a woman over there. She burst into flames, so my guess is that she was a demon or a maybe a warlock. Then the guy took something, a necklace, from the witch."

"Okay, what else?" D.J. asked.

"A darkened courtroom set up for some kind of ritual," Wyatt said. He moved away from the pew and from D.J. to begin pacing thoughtfully back and forth. Wyatt was rubbing his chin with his hand, "Okay, let's go over this... when did this start?"

"About two days after you got to Boston and moved in with Chris. There've been four in the month since. I went to check out a couple of them, but came up empty handed. This is number five."

"All of them male witches," Wyatt continued thinking aloud. He was betting that each of them had necklaces taken from them after they were killed.

"Now that you mention it," D.J. said, "You're right. I didn't really think about that before."

"Neither did I to be honest," Wyatt admitted, "But I did think of what our next move is."

D.J. was about to ask what that was, but Wyatt was already walking back out of the church and into the daylight outside. He closed his eyes and tried to shimmer again, only to have the wave of neausea return from the attempt. What choice did he have but to follow Wyatt to find out what this 'next move' was? He was so dead once Chris got a hold of him, but if he could manage to keep Wyatt out of too much trouble maybe he could request his execution to be quick and painless.

Andrea was waiting for them just outside and she caught Wyatt as he was passing. The female detective rested a hand on his arm, "I take it from the focussed look in your eyes that you got something?"

"You always were perceptive," Wyatt said with a smirk.

"And you're not going to tell me what it was?" she was asking when D.J. caught up to the Twice Blessed Witch.

Wyatt thought of telling her 'no', but she was giving him _that_ look. The one she had always given him when she knew he was about to keep something from her. Did mother's teach their daughters that look? It seemed every woman Wyatt had ever met had known it and just how to use it to their advantage. Maybe it was just that Wyatt was especially vulnerable to it. Or maybe it was him trying to make it up to Andrea that he hadn't been in touch with her in so long and she had let him into the crime scene when she could just have easily have told him to go jump in a lake.

"He was a witch," Wyatt said, "and there was a big guy - when I say big, I mean Andre the Giant big - with an axe. That was who killed him. Also you may want to check the circular scorch mark in the back corner of the church, it used to be a person."

Andrea had pulled a small notepad out of her coat and was writing notes down on it. Wyatt kept on, "When you figure out who the victim was, you may want to check with his family about a necklace and see if it has any significance. My guess is that the other four victims are missing necklaces too if you check into it."

When Wyatt had said all that he was going to say, Andrea looked up at him, "Thanks, Wyatt. That'll be a big help." He grinned at her and she just had to add with a wry tone, "But you're still not off the hook for not keeping in touch with me."

The young man's smile faded and Andrea rolled her eyes at him with a laugh. She flipped to a blank page in her little notebook and wrote something on it. The sound of ripping paper was followed by her handing it to Wyatt, "That's my cellphone number, Halliwell. If you find anything else, call me? If you don't remember how, I'm sure D.J. can show you."

Andrea squeezed D.J.'s arm and gave the half-manticore a kiss on the cheek as she left the two young men, in order to return to work. Wyatt gaped after her, then turned to frown at D.J. "If you were anyone else, I think I would be turning green right now."

D.J. smirked at Wyatt, "Can I help it if women find my boyish charm completely irrisistable?"

Wyatt rolled his eyes, "Come on, Cassanova, we've got courthouses to check out."

D.J. winced as Wyatt grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards an alley. He had completely forgotten Wyatt said something about a courthouse. He had failed to mention that part to Andrea. "We're not going to..." once they were out of sight from the crowd, Wyatt and D.J. vanished in a swirl of blue and white lights.

The raven on the rooftop was looking down into the alley and once the pair dissapeared, it 'cawwed' and flapped its wings to fly away.

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

The sidewalks of the college campus were bustling with students in between classes as Chris hefted his messenger bag and hurried as quickly as he could towards where his class was. A classmate whizzed past him on a skateboard and Chris barely avoided being plowed over by another who was running in the opposite direction. The youngest Halliwell brother dared a look at his watch and winced. He _might_ make it before his name was read off of the role and avoid a tardy. It was too early in the semester to start accumulating them already.

The science building was ahead and Chris veered off the busy sidewalk to jog up the steps. Compared to the pathways outside, the halls of the building were quiet, since classes were in session or just starting. Chris didn't slow down, his class was at the end of one of the back halls of the building in one of the smaller lecture rooms.

His sneakers made a squeeling sound on the tiled floor as he slid to a stop in front of the door. Chris drew a breath, collected himself, and then stepped inside.

"Gibson, Nancy," the Professor was calling out, "Gordon, William."

Chris trotted down the stairs into the well of raised seats from the back of the room and got a few looks from his fellow students.

"Halliwell, Christopher."

"Present," Chris called as he sunk into his chair with a sigh of relief. The Professor looked up from the role, saw him and smiled before moving on to the next name.

One of Chris's classmates leaned over the back of the seats to whisper in Chris's ear, "Nice of you to join us Chris."

Chris grinned, pulling his notebook and the text out of his bag, "Yeah, well, I wouldn't want you to actually have to take notes for yourself Spencer." Digging a pen out too, Chris settled in for his first class of the day and waited for the lecture to begin.

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

Chicago's O'Hare Airport is a busy labarynth for those that are familiar with it, it's an almost impossible labarynth for those that aren't. Piper Halliwell and Leo Wyatt stepped off of their plane and into the terminal.

"Our next flight leaves out of what terminal?" Leo asked his wife. The former-whitelighter looked a little bit green around the gills as he set his feet back on solid ground again. Piper gestured vaguely towards the television screens that showed departures and arrivals, indicating that Leo should find it while she made a bee-line for the pay phones.

She sat down, slid a credit card through and started punching in the boy's number. While Piper was waiting for it to connect, listening to the ring in the earpiece, Leo walked back over to her. No one was answering. Piper gnawed on her lower lip and looked up at Leo.

"I got the gate number," Leo said.

Piper hung up the phone and continued to frown at it, "They aren't picking up. Something is wrong."

"Piper, stop worrying," Leo said, "Nothing is wrong. Chris had a class and Wyatt is probably still just out. Don't worry about it."

"I _am_ worried though, Leo," she said, "I've got this horrible feeling..."

"I'm the one that got sick on the plane," Leo reminded her, "You're just nervous because we're going to see how independent and capable of taking care of themselves our two sons have become. You don't want to have to face the facts that our boys are all grown up, so you're trying to invent a scenario in your mind where they still need us."

Piper screwed her face into an indignant look, arms folding over her chest. Leo had a point, but it still didn't ease that nagging thought that there was something horribly wrong with one or both of her children. "Quit channeling my sister's psychiatric-babble at me," Piper said, "I just have a feeling, that's all."

"So, pick up the phone, call them back, and leave a message this time," Leo told his wife.

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

The late afternoon sun was hanging low in the sky as the day began to edge towards early evening. Between two large vans that obscured the sight from prying eyes a funnel of pure light coalesced into a pair of young men. D.J. drew his hand away from Wyatt immediately and leaned against the side of one of the vans, panting.

"I'm going to pass out," D.J. complained.

Wyatt ignored him, looking around the sides of the vans towards the last courthouse on their list. They had checked every other possible location in and around Salem and if this one turned up to be another wash out, Wyatt would have to go back to the drawing board.

"I'm serious Wyatt, everything is spinning and... oh... here it comes... the blackening vision... the fading strength..." D.J. said, sagging back against the van and lifting the back of his arm to his forhead in feigned (well, mostly) distress.

Wyatt glanced at him, "Quit being so melodramatic. Would you have preferred walking?"

D.J. straightened up, or at least he tried to before he put his hands to his middle and grimaced, "As opposed to orbing and feeling like I want to empty my stomach of its contents every time we do? Yes. The answer to that question is a resounding and emphatic 'yes'. "

"Oh, quit your whining, you big baby," Wyatt said.

"If you had let me take a break long enough to get my legs back under me, I could have shimmered here with you and we wouldn't be having this discussion," D.J. said.

"No, you would be shimmering back to Boston and getting Chris," Wyatt pointed out, "I know you too well D.J. and we're not getting my little brother involved in this if we don't have to."

D.J. shook his head, but didn't deny it, "This has got to be what? The tenth place we've checked?"

"Seventh."

"Are you sure that you saw what you think you saw?" D.J. asked, "I mean, maybe it was something else... maybe you just thought it looked like a courtroom, but it was really something else... did we really have to check every building including ones that _used_ to be courthouses back-in-the-day?"

"I know what I saw D.J." Wyatt said, then started towards the building without waiting for him. "If this one isn't it, then we'll call it a night, deal?"

D.J. sighed, "Fine. It's not like I really have any choice anyway."

Wyatt walked from the parking lot up the small stone sidewalk, making his way towards the doors. A man was just stepping out and locking up the historic building as they climbed the stairs.

"Sorry, closing up for the day," the guy in the suit says, "Everyone's gone home. If you have something you need, you'll have to come back tomorrow."

"Whoops, ah well, looks like we're going to have to go home," D.J. said to Wyatt as the guy that had locked the place headed to the parking lot. The shaggy-haired man went to pat Wyatt's shoulder, but the witchlighter was already walking down the stairs and around the side of the building, undeterred. "Uh, Wyatt... the place is closed..."

"There's bound to be another way in," Wyatt said, crossing around the side of the building and checking windows, "I just want to take a quick look around."

D.J.'s eyes widened, apalled, "Wyatt, take a hint. It's a sign. This isn't the place, let's go home."

The third window Wyatt tried slid open easily, "Bingo." Wyatt grabbed the ledge and slid himself down inside the lower level window into what must have been a basement storeroom. Once he was in he looked up through the window at D.J. and flashed him a grin, "Coming?"

"Great, now let's add 'breaking and entering' to the list of crimes you're bent on committing today," D.J. says and grumbling slides in after him.

Wyatt smirked, "Did you see me break anything?"

"Okay, how about trespassing?" D.J. amended.

Wyatt surveyed the room they were in, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light inside as opposed to the brighter light outside. "Just a quick peak around and we'll leave, I swear."

Wyatt walks through the storeroom that they've gotten into and opens the door. D.J. turned and reached up to pull the window they'd climbed into down to hide signs of their entry. "That way if anyone happens to be walking by outside while you're _trespassing_, they won't get suspicious."

"Good idea," Wyatt said, then looked out into the room beyond the storeroom and froze as he surveyed it. It was the exact same room as his premonition. He could see more detail in it now. The pentagram was carved into the floor just as he had remembered it, in the front open space of the room. Towards the back, rows of empty benches. At the front a podium and two long low tables that seemed like altar tables. "...this is it," he whispered back to D.J.

D.J. stepped up to look over Wyatt's shoulder, "...great. We found it, let's leave now. We'll call Andy and let the cops handle--"

Wyatt was creeping across the room towards the podium, causing D.J. to curse softly under his breath.

"--this. Now I see why Chris is so damn neurotic..." D.J. hissed. Looking both ways, he snuck after Wyatt, "Wyatt, I've got a really bad vibe about this place. Seriously, let's go..."

Wyatt was already behind the podium, going through the stack of parchment papers that had been carefully laid there and frowning at the words. They were written in some other language and it definately wasn't a tongue that Wyatt was familiar with. He picked one up to show D.J. as the half-manticore joined him and went rigid with a sharp intake of breath. The image was full color and seen through the same eerily real sense as he had experienced for the first time earlier, like some part of him was really in that future moment.

_Wyatt was coming out of a premonition, feeling exhausted. He had to grab hold of the podium to keep his legs under him._

"_It happened again?" D.J. asked worriedly._

_The main door into the room opened and a cloaked figure wearing a Venetian paper mache mask walked in. When the figure saw Wyatt and D.J. standing at the podium, with D.J. taking the paper from Wyatt. The figure reached into its cloak and pulled a gun out and aimed it towards the two, pulling the trigger. A small blue metallic dart stuck into D.J.'s neck and the half-manticore dropped to the ground with a thud._

Wyatt sucked in a breath when he opened his eyes from the vision and grabbed hold of the podium to keep his legs under him. Whoever was responsible for the progression of powers had picked a hell of a time for bestowing this one on him. D.J. was looking at him in concern.

"It happened again?" D.J. asked worriedly.

The door was opening and Wyatt looked towards it in time t see the cloaked figure aiming the dart gun at his friend. He was still feeling woozy from the astral jump to the future, or whatever it was, but he wasn't going to let D.J. get shot. Wyatt moved forward, giving D.J. a hard shove to the floor behind one of the heavy altars and dropped himself down behind the podium. Two more shots were fired, following the first, imbedding themselves into the front of the podium.

D.J. scrambled around to get a better crouching possition, "You don't pay me enough for this."

"I don't pay you at all," Wyatt commented.

"Exactly my point! I should start getting hazzard pay for being your friend!"

Wyatt leaned around the side of the podium and waved his hand at the shooter, telekenetically throwing the figure against the wall. The figure's mask dropped off and hit the floor as the man's head cracked against the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster. The dart gun went skittering across the floor. The shooter fell to the ground and sprawled unconcious and unmoving. Wyatt drew back behind the podium and blinked, putting his palms on the floor to brace himself. His vision swam hazily. He lifted a hand to pull a small blue, metallic dart from his neck and looked at it before he sunk to the floor.

"Can we leave now?" D.J. asked aloud. No response.

"Wyatt?" D.J. asks peeking around his piece of furniture towards his friend. No response. He sucked in a breath when he saw the blonde. "Wyatt!" There are sounds of more people coming and fast. "_Shit_," D.J. cursed, darting from his hiding place to scramble over next to Wyatt. The Twice-Blessed witch was laying in a crumpled heap behind the podium, with one of the shiny blue metallic darts on the floor next to him. He had been hit by it when he shoved D.J. out of the way.

"Oh, this is sooo not good," D.J. winced smacking Wyatt's face to try to rouse him. He moistened his lips and dared to look towards the door and the unconcious shooter.

Holding onto Wyatt, D.J. tried to shimmer them both out. He started to and then the wave of neausea from earlier came back with a vengeance. Hooking his hands under Wyatt's arms, he tried to drag the other man towards the storeroom to at least get them hidden. He knew he couldn't shimmer them out, not yet, and time was definately not on their side right now. "You need to go on a diet," he complained in a whisper as he drug as quickly as he could, "And your little idea of calling Chris for help doesn't really work when you get yourself knocked out."

The footsteps had reached the door and they were unlocking it now. D.J. breathed heavily as he pulled Wyatt faster into the storeroom. D.J. dropped Wyatt with a thump and closed the door just as the door to the main room opened. Swallowing down his fear, D.J. turned the lock and leaned against the door, looking helplessly at his unconcious friend.

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

"Here," Chris's chemistry lab partner said, holding a beaker of blue liquid towards Chris, "Measure this one out."

Chris had spent all day going from one class to the next, with a short break for lunch, and the rest of his time in the library studying in between. Now he was in his chemistry lab. One class to go after this one. He took the beaker from the short, Korean guy who was his lab partner. Seung Kwon busied himself in measuring some of the other ingrediants.

Wyatt was still out there, somewhere, and still masking his presence from his little brother. While Chris measured out the proper amount of the blue liquid, he wondered just what it was that Wyatt was up to. Then he smirked as he thought of what waited for his big brother when Wyatt came back to his room. Chris slid the blue liquid over to Seung and picked up another vial to begin measuring. He could hide himself for the rest of the day if he wanted to, but Chris had made sure he was going to take care of his landfill of a room.

Chris tilted his dark-haired head to one side as he measured, concentrating on it. Wyatt was somewhere to the north, Chris realized suddenly as the link 'came back online' so to speak. A frown creased the young man's face and he nearly dropped what he was working on. He did manage to set it down on the desk in time, before he sat down in his chair hard. Seung looked over at him curiously. Chris put a hand to his neck and rubbed at it, making a face, then gave himself a shake.

"You alright?" Seung asked.

"Yeah," Chris said, picking the glass beaker back up, shaking it off, "Okay, so, what are we supposed to be adding to--" Blackness. This wasn't like the masking that Wyatt had been relying on all day. This was sudden and forceful enough that he sensed it from as far away as he was. Chris dropped the beaker and only just managed to make it to the chair rather than the ground. "--actually, no. No, I'm not alright."

Seung frowned at the spilled chemicals and broken glass on the floor. The professor was making her way towards their table. "Maybe you should go outside and get some fresh air or something, you don't look so good," the Korean boy told Chris.

Chris nodded, getting to his feet and smiled worriedly. "Good idea," he said, "Excuse me..." He grabbed his bag and shuffledout of the classroom. _What the hell was Wyatt doing?_ Chris wondered, suddenly worried. Chris ducked into the bathroom, checked to make sure all of the stalls were empty, then orbed away.

--------------------------Commercial Break------------------------------

**Author's Note**: Oh, and the contest deadline was extended by the way! So I just might manage to finish typing everything and converting it in time afterall. Please, please, pretty please hit that button at the bottom and write me a review.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I just checked… I _still_ don't own Chris and Wyatt Halliwell or Charmed. I'm not making any money writing this. I'm just making a bit of free entertainment for myself and others that may be interested in reading it.

**Author's Note:** We're over the halfway point people! Thanks everyone so much for the reviews… I just wish some of those other folks who are reading this and not reviewing would click that little button at the bottom to let me know what they're thinking. Even it's just a short little "Keep up the good work" to motivate me. Sure, I love getting long reviews the best, but I like knowing who's out there reading this thing instead of just seeing more numbers on the 'hits' column. That said, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter… I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please review!

Oh, yes… and to LLC and Jess, I'm prepared for the comments that I just _know_ are about to come once you get to the end of this chapter and see -yet again- an OFC. Good Lord, I can already say it before the words come from either of you: SEE! DAMSEL IN DISTRESS! But the rest wasn't crap. ;) …so, this is for you: WARNING: There is a Damsel in Distress moment coming, read at your own risk… lol. Love you both. I mean it and I'm glad that we talked about all that.

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**Destined: The Charmed Sons**

**Episode 1.1, Pilot: The Crucible**

**Chapter Five**

D.J could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he leaned against the door to the storeroom. He was holding his breath too and looking in dread at Wyatt's unmoving body. _What was in those darts?_ he thought furiously. At least Wyatt was breathing; he could see the steady rise and fall of the witch's chest. But Wyatt being out cold was not a good thing. D.J. looked from Wyatt to the window and frowned. Nope, no way he could lift his friend back up through there, it was all he could do to drag Wyatt into this room. Shimmering was still out of the question. _We are so screwed,_ D.J. thought pessimistically as he closed his eyes.

THUNK!

D.J.'s eyes opened again and he lifted them to look at the door right next to his head. The sharpened metal head of an axe was sticking through, mere inches from having hit him. The half-manticore opened his mouth in petrified disbelief as whoever was on the other side wrenched it back out. _THUNK!_ This time it came closer, sending little splinters into the room. Snapping himself into action, D.J. dove away from the door, "Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod…"

He grabbed Wyatt's shoulders with both hands and was shaking the witch in desperation, "This is not happening to me. Not happening… scary axe murderer trying to chop through the door…" The axe-split the door again and D.J. flinched, shaking Wyatt harder. "WAKE UP! Wyatt! Come on! What was in those darts… _Wyatt!_" he screeched.

The axe impaled the door again, splintering off more wood and D.J. heard the sound of someone's booted foot kicking at it now. He jumped up away from Wyatt and frantically searched the room for something heavy to push against the door. There was a big old desk, solid wood. D.J. grunted with effort and pushed it about an inch forward. "…this just sucks…" he panted and gave up, moving back to trying to rouse Wyatt, "If we survive this, I'm demanding a pay raise."

A swirl of lights appeared just next to D.J. and Wyatt. Chris had his arms crossed over his chest, "Since when did we start paying you?"

D.J. jumped to his feet and dove at the younger man. He clung to him, "I have never been so excited to see you before in my life…"

"You might change your mind about that once I get finished with the two of you." Chris brushed him off, making a face. Then he dropped down beside Wyatt. The axe chose that moment to strike the door again and Chris looked at it wide-eyed. Lifting his eyes to look at D.J. Chris said, "I'm not sure that I want to ask why someone is trying to break down the door with an axe." Chris checked Wyatt's pulse then made sure he was breathing before he gave him a good shake, "Rise and shine, Wy…"

THUNK!

Chris lifted his eyes to glare at D.J. in accusation, as Wyatt wasn't even remotely close to waking up. His pulse was slow and faint, but there, like he'd been drugged with something. Which, he had been of course, but Chris didn't know that yet.

"Don't look at me. I tried my best this time. I did!"

"Your idea of trying your best is locking yourself in a storeroom while a maniac with an axe tries to get in?"

"Wyatt hijacked me and has been holding me hostage all day," D.J. said.

Chris just shook his head and smacked Wyatt's face a couple of time. Wyatt didn't even groan. The axe hit the door again, followed by a foot solidly kicking it and the whole thing creaked and groaned. It wasn't going to last much longer. "Save it," Chris growled. He laid one hand on Wyatt's chest and held the other towards D.J. to take.

D.J. didn't even care about the orbing this time, he grabbed hold of Chris's hand. As soon as he did, the three of them vanished in a cloud of orbs.

With a splintering crunch the door into the storeroom finally broke inwards. The large man with the axe was the first through, while two other figures slipped through the opening behind him. 

"Their whitelighter must have come," a female voice said, her face obscured by a porcelain mask and her body cloaked in black robes.

"They _are_ whitelighters," the man with the axe said, moving over to the spot where the trio had disappeared from, "At least… two of them are."

"I thought he was a witch," the second masked and robed figure said, a male's voice.

"He is," the man with the axe said, to the confusion of the other two. The man with the axe turned and smiled a slow and sinister smile, "Not just any witch though. _The_ witch. He'll be back, I know just how to bring him here again… he and his brother. The sons of a Charmed One. Get the altars ready and rouse the rest of the coven… it's time."

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

Chris orbed the three of them back to the apartment, and D.J. promptly staggered out of the room and into the bathroom looking green. Chris shook his head then returned his attentions to Wyatt, tapping his brother's cheek again, "Come on Wyatt. Wake up…"

D.J. staggered back into the living room, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

Chris looked up at him, "What is he, drugged or something?"

"Um… he kind of got shot by a dart of some sort."

"Great," Chris grumbled, he backed up from Wyatt and made a gesture with his hand. Telekinetically he lifted his brother up and levitated him over to the couch. It wasn't like he could have picked Wyatt up physically if he had tried to, being smaller. "You didn't happen to get one did you, so I can find out what was in it. Did you?"

"No," D.J. said. He grabbed a blanket and tossed it to Chris, who in turn tucked it over Wyatt, "I think it was just a tranquilizer dart though, if that's any help."

"Great. Just great," Chris grumbled, "Is that supposed to be good news?"

"Not really, but I do have some good news," D.J. offered.

Chris crouched next to his brother, lifted his eyes to look at the shaggy haired young man, "What?"

D.J. smiled awkwardly, "I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geiko."

If looks could kill, D.J. would have been ash right then from the venomous look that Chris shot him. Had Chris not been so terribly worried about Wyatt, he probably would have found D.J.'s comment funny. He always appreciated good sarcasm. Right now just was just an exception to the rule.

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

The sun was beginning to set, even though it was difficult to tell that in Chicago for the rain that was pouring from the sky. Leo paced back and forth in front of the large windows at their gate in the terminal. He sighed and moved back to the seats to sit next to Piper.

She had just returned to the chairs herself, after having waited in line at the information counter. "The flight has been delayed for at least an hour," she said.

"Because of the rain?" Leo asked.

"Technical difficulties," Piper said.

Leo paled, "That doesn't sound good."

"Relax, sweetheart," Piper said, kissing his cheek, "I was kidding. Yes, it's because of the rain. They've apparently got backups on the runway. We may as well use the time wisely, I'll give the boys another call and let them know we're going to be a little late getting into Boston."

Leo got up with her as she made her way to the bank of payphones and sat down. She punched in the boy's phone number and was surprised when Chris answered on the second ring and his face appeared on the small, grainy payphone video screen.

"International Trans-mutual Conglomeration of Associates. May I help you?" the image of Piper's youngest son said.

"Chris, shouldn't you be in class?" Piper asked immediately, her earlier doubts resurfacing, "Is everything okay?"

"Yep, everything's shiny. Is that it? I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"Is something wrong?" Piper pried. That nagging sense that something was wrong was back with a vengeance. "You know you can tell me… I'm still your mother."

"Everything is under control," Chris said, sounding like he was in a hurry to get her off of the phone. Which just told Piper that everything _wasn't_ under control. It was setting warning bells off in the concerned mother's head.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." Chris said, giving his mother a dazzling smile.

"Only fools are positive," Wyatt groaned, quoting a line from one of his favorite books, as he woke up.

"Oh, thank God," Chris exclaimed. Piper saw him look over his shoulder into the room behind him from the small video picture.

"What…? Chris, what's going on?" Piper demanded, her worries growing. That had sounded like Wyatt in the background. Nothing unusual there except for the extremely relieved expression she had been sure she saw cross Chris's face.

"Nothing. Gotta go, Mom. See you when you get here."

"Chris I---" click "…was going to tell you our flight's been delayed… Leo, they're up to something, I know it."

"They're always up to something Piper. You shouldn't worry so much."

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

Chris went from being worried about Wyatt to angry at him in a heartbeat's time. "You are in so much trouble Mister!" he shouted as soon as he hung up the phone on his mother. He turned away from the phone and stormed across the room towards the couch.

D.J. quietly whispered under his breath in his best Ricky Ricardo accent, "Lucy, you got some splainin' to do."

"I got a new power," Wyatt said quietly from where he was sprawled on the couch. He began to sit up, moving a bit stiffly.

"What's that? The power to almost get yourself killed? Sorry, bro, that one's not new. You have exactly five seconds to start explaining to me why you were in Salem, got shot with a dart, and were unconscious in a storage room with D.J. while an axe-wielding maniac was trying to break open the door. What were you thinking?"

One of the glasses on the counter behind Chris started to move as he passed it in his progression towards his brother and their friend. It rattled slightly, sliding around on its bottom edge in a quiet clatter.

"He wasn't," D.J. contributed.

"Stay out of this. I'll get to _you_ in a minute," Chris growled. His green eyes were locked on Wyatt. The glass on the counter move a bit faster. So did the two coffee mugs that D.J. and Wyatt had left out from this morning.

"Hey, don't yell at him, it's not his fault," Wyatt grumbled defensively.

"Oh, so you're actually taking the blame this time? You must really have not wanted to clean your room to pull a stunt like this. What is the matter with you? You're not invincible, when are you going to get that through your thick skull!" Chris snapped. The first of the glasses flew off the counter and smashed against the kitchen wall behind Chris's back.

D.J. flinched. Wyatt just locked his jaw stubbornly and looked at the approach of his younger sibling.

"Yeah, well you're not invincible either Mr. Gung-Ho-Constantly-Looking-for-Demons-to-Vanquish! You're the one who's always looking for trouble," Wyatt countered.

There went the two coffee mugs, both flinging off the counter and slamming into the ground as though someone had grabbed them in their fist and thrown them to the floor with all their might. D.J. flinched again and swallowed hard. He _so_ did not want to be in the middle of this.

Chris's emerald eyes were flashing. "It's called being pro-active and don't you dare try to turn this onto me. I saved your ass. _Again_. When I go 'looking for trouble', I at least let you know where I'm going and don't mask myself from you un--"

"What?! Are you forgetting about the time that y--"

"Not finished!" Chris snapped again. The picture frames on the mantle began rattling as though they were the next to go. He wasn't about to let Wyatt try to turn this around on him. Chris looked very much like their mother, hands on his hips and green eyes flashing like polished emeralds. Wyatt shut his mouth and let his brother finish. "_Unless_ I know that I can handle it."

"That's bullsh--"

"SHUT UP! I'm still not done!" More glass breaking as the pictures on the mantle hit the opposite wall. D.J. squeaked, wishing Wyatt _would_ just shut up. The Twice-Blessed Witch had his jaw clamped shut to the point where the muscles in it were twitching, but he let Chris finish talking.

Chris continued, his voice dangerously quiet now, "When I _do_ realize that I can't handle something I have _always_ called for you, haven't I? I don't wait until I don't have any options left. I use my head and when that fails I call in the cavalry. Were you planning on calling me at all today? Somehow I doubt it and if you hadn't gotten yourself _shot_ and knocked out, I wouldn't have known just how 'in over your head' you were until it was too late. What if it had been a Darklighter, Wyatt?"

"It wasn't…"

"It could have been," Chris said hotly, "And it wouldn't have been the first time either!"

Wyatt sighed and lowered his eyes, "I'm sorry."

Chris rounded on D.J. again and the half-manticore sunk back against the couch wishing he could vanish into it. "As much as I appreciate Wyatt taking the blame for this, I am by no means holding you guiltless. He got the idea to go racing into danger from somewhere. I know it came from you because almost every time he's done something like this, I find out that somehow you're involved!"

D.J. flinched, half expecting some heavy book to fly off the bookshelf and crack him in the head. When it didn't come, he cracked his eyes open to look at Chris. The younger witch was glaring at him, awaiting a response.

"I came to tell you both there'd been another murdered witch… because I'd finally heard more about what was going on from some folks in the er…" D.J. decided to leave the part about the Underworld out, Chris was already mad enough, "…I thought maybe you two would want to go look into it…"

"And what did you call it, D.J.? Wyatt 'hijacked' you, before you could tell me about it?" Chris asked heatedly.

"He orbed me before I could do anything to stop him. Don't you think if I could have shimmered, I would have gone to get you? Or, hell, I would've gotten us out of there before the axe-murderer starting hacking down doors. He knew you had classes today. He didn't want you to have to get involved and worry…"

"How thoughtful of him," Chris said dryly.

"You two should get a room, sticking up for each other like that," Chris added with harsh sounding sarcasm, folding his arms over his chest. He was looking at the two of them like a pair of kids he'd caught sticking their hands in the cookie jar. Very slowly counting to ten in his head and trying to calm down. "All day long I've been thinking he's just being an irresponsible slacker and avoiding doing his share around here… instead I find out he's being some kind of impulsive gumshoe out playing 'Nancy Drew' with you. I hope you found out something worthwhile from your little perilous escapade."

"Would it help if I said I was sorry again?" Wyatt asked.

"A little," Chris said, unable to stay mad at Wyatt no matter how much he tried. Now that he had let off his steam from the anger, the worry came rushing back. He finally sat down on the arm of the couch next to Wyatt and gave him a fierce hug. Then Chris balled up his fist and punched his brother in the arm, "Don't scare me like that again _okay_?"

Wyatt hugged Chris back, and gave him a shove off of the couch's arm onto the floor, "Thanks for saving my ass."

"I'm trying not to make a habit of it. Now, what was this about you getting a new power?" Chris asked from the floor. It wasn't like his Twice-Blessed brother didn't have enough of them already.

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

The weather in Boston was still clear, since the storm front that was pummeling the center of the country had not yet reached the east coast. The sun had made its final descent in the sky, painting it in purples and golds. Detective Andrea Payton sat in the front seat of her car across the street from a coffee shop. Two steaming cups of coffee sit in the coffee holder, as the young woman spoke on the phone in her idling car.

"Thank you," Andrea said, hanging up the phone. She dialed another number, "Hey, Matt… just got off the phone with victim number four's parents. He had a necklace too. Get this… symbol for water. We've got Water, Earth, Spirit, Air..."

"I just finished speaking with the parents of the kid from this morning. They said he'd never been anywhere without his. I'll let you have one guess as to what it was."

"Fire. Sounds like our serial killer has something very specific in mind."

"Oh, they ran the chem. lab on those samples you took from the burn spot in the corner. Your friend was right about that too. I don't believe in that stuff, but I think he really could be psychic. That or we need to move him to the top of our suspects list…"

"Wyatt's not a suspect, trust me, Matt. What were the results?"

"There was definitely DNA present. We're running the results through missing persons, but whoever it was just may not have been reported missing yet. You coming back to the station?"

"Yeah, I'm on my way now. I just stopped to get us some coffee. I've got a feeling we're going to need it." She hangs up and rubs her hands through her hair, "I hope you know what you're doing Wyatt. I _know_ you were keeping something from me this morning. I just don't know what it is…"

Andrea pulled her notepad out and made five dots on the page, then one by one as she said the words, drew lines connecting them until they formed a pentagram, "Water, earth, spirit, air and fire…" She drew a circle around the outside of the pentagram, uniting all five points. "All that's left is--" Andrea squeaked as a hand snaked over her back seat and covered her mouth with a chloroform soaked rag.

A man in a porcelain mask leaned over the seat to whisper in her ear, "Power." Her eyes rolled back into her head and she sunk limply against the seat of her car.

--------------------------Commercial Break------------------------------

**Author's Note**: So, how was that? What do you think is going to happen? Am I moving too fast now? Was the dialogue okay? The argument between Chris and Wyatt? I won't know what you all think of how this is going unless you tell me. That means, you have to click that little button at the bottom of the page and write me a review. I'll even take the grumbles about Andy from a certain couple of reviewers that I know are going to have something to say about her… and I'm glad that we talked about it. I feel a lot better now. Ya'll are great for being so patient with me. Mwah! ;)


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I just checked… I _still_ don't own Chris and Wyatt Halliwell or Charmed. I'm not making any money writing this. I'm just making a bit of free entertainment for myself and others that may be interested in reading it.

**Author's Note:** I'm not completely satisfied with how this turned out yet… there's so much that I want to tweak it and make it better. Ya'll can tell me what you think, but anyway, here's the next installment. One more chapter to go after this one.

---------------------------------------------------------------

**Destined: The Charmed Sons**

**Episode 1.1, Pilot: The Crucible**

**Chapter Six**

The phone started ringing again and Wyatt got ready to go answer it. Chris shook his head, "It's probably Mom, calling us back. Let the machine get it. I want to know what this business is about a new power. Is that the reason you decided to try to get yourself killed?"

Wyatt sat back down on the couch, "Yes and no."

Chris didn't exactly like that response and crossed his arms over his chest. He was still on the floor from where Wyatt had shoved him, but sitting up now and keeping his older brother fixed with his emerald stare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I left because you were right about me not wanting to clean up, but I also wanted to look into the lead D.J. got without bothering you. While we were doing that--"

"He saw Andrea again," D.J. chimed in. At a look from Wyatt, the half-manticore leaned back against the couch again, made a zipper motion across his lips, and then mimed placing a lock there and throwing an imaginary key over his shoulder.

"While we were doing that, I got a premonition in the church where the witch was killed and--"

Now it was Chris's turn to interrupt, "Wait, you saw Andrea Payton today? As in Andrea the only girl you have ever cleaned your room for out of your own free will _ever_ Andrea?"

"Yes, Chris," Wyatt said, "As I was saying, while we were in the church, I got a premonit--"

"Andrea that somehow managed to render you incapable of coherent speech more times than I can count Andrea? We're talking about the girl that walks through walls and had you on cloud nine for almost two years to the point that you didn't date anyone else Andrea?" Chris inquired from the floor. His earlier worried anger at Wyatt nearly getting himself killed had been pushed to the back of his mind. "Andrea that broke u--"

Wyatt ground his teeth together, "YES! Okay, _yes_, Chris. I saw Andrea today and she gave me her number again. I _thought_ you wanted to hear this?"

Chris smiled and leaned back on his palms, "Just making sure. By all means, continue…"

Sometimes, Wyatt really wanted to smack his little brother. "I can't decide who you're more like. Mom or Aunt Paige. Are you finished now? _Okay then_, I was saying that in the middle of the premonition, something changed. The first part was like they've always been. Hazy black and white flashes of images, but then all of a sudden, I felt like I was actually there. Color, sound, everything almost like I somehow astral projected myself into the future. It was weird…"

Chris frowned, his brow creasing as he looked up at his brother, getting a read off of him as he described the experience. "So… your power advanced…"

Wyatt nodded, and unthinkingly rubbed his neck. Chris and D.J. probably both thought that the gesture had something to do with getting hit by the dart, but Wyatt was thinking about the axe. Weird and frightening rolled into one. "I'd say. I saw the murder happen - told that to Andy."

Chris smirked. Wyatt ignored him and continued, "What I didn't tell the cops was that I'd seen a courthouse set up for a ritual of some kind, because I wanted to investigate it with D.J. We searched a bunch of them, finally found the right one… I got another of the weird premonitions…"

"Future Projections," Chris said.

"What?" Wyatt asked.

"Future Projections," his younger brother repeated, "You really should've listened to Dad more in those History of Magic lectures he was always giving us. If what you say you're doing is what I think you're doing, the correct term is 'Future Projection' not 'weird premonition'."

Wyatt sighed, seeing that now that his brother had decided he had the upper hand from saving his rear, Chris wasn't going to let it go. He might not be on the verge of throwing objects around the room telekinetically anymore, but he was still making sure Wyatt knew he'd messed up in his own smart-ass way. Wyatt folded his arms over his broad chest and gave Chris another 'You done?' expression.

"I got another of the _weird premonitions_," Wyatt said, enunciating it purposefully. He was satisfied at the frustrated sigh that came from his brother and then he continued, "when I picked up some papers that had foreign writing on them. I was going to show them to D.J. to see if he could make anything of it, when I saw in the vision someone opening the door and shooting some darts at us. One hit D.J. Then when I came out of it, the door did open. I shoved D.J. out of the way… and shortly after I was out cold and waking up here on the couch."

D.J. was still being quiet and behaving just as if he had locked his lips and thrown away the key. Arms over his chest, listening to the Halliwell brothers.

Chris pushed himself up off the floor and looked at Wyatt, "And that was it? Nothing else?"

"That's it," Wyatt said.

Chris must have caught the note in his voice that said he was trying to hide something. Or it could have been something through the brotherly bond they shared that just let the younger sibling _know_ there was something being left out. Wyatt saw the skeptical raising of Chris's eyebrows and the searching tilt of his head. "Really?"

Wyatt hesitated and now D.J. was sitting straighter and looking at him to see what he was holding back too. "In the first premonition… I saw a big guy, the same one that killed the other witches, with an axe standing over me. I…" Wyatt hesitated as both Chris and D.J. were giving him intense green-eyed stares, "…I felt the axe strike home."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hit the break. Rewind!" D.J. burst out, breaking his vow of silence as he jumped off of the couch to look at Wyatt, "You _felt_ yourself being beheaded and you took us on a mad hunt all over Salem to look for the place that it happened? Are you NUTS?!"

Chris was wondering the same thing as he looked at his brother, boggling over the idiocy of that behavior. His teeth ground together and his temper started to rise again. Horror mingled with fury, but it was the anger that won out for now. The television fell over with a loud boom and the crash of breaking glass with its screen. D.J. darted a glance to it, but other than giving a small jump, Wyatt ignored it, jabbing a finger at the half-manticore.

Wyatt immediately went on the defensive, getting to his feet as well, "Hey now! I was trying to find it so that we could go to stop any other witches from being killed!"

"Yeah, by getting yourself killed!" D.J. blurted, then his eyes went wide behind his glasses, "You knew that nut job with the axe might be there! I would _never_ have let you go there if I'd know that Wyatt! Do you have any idea how close I was to having that psycho ruin my boyish good looks trying to get to you? Do you? Because you were out cold, so I don't think you're really getting the severity of the situation we were in."

All three of them were on their feet now. D.J. and Wyatt glaring at each other. Chris was silent. Too silent. Some of the books on the bookshelves began shifting while Chris clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides.

"Maybe you think you're invincible T.B. but I know for a fact that I am not unbreakable! Are you trying to compete with your little brother for the Reckless Witch award this year? Cause, ya know, if you are you're doing a great job!"

"I saved you from getting shot!" Wyatt shouted back.

"Yeah, only to get shot yourself so that I had to drag your heavy ass into a storeroom and get cornered by lunatics out to kill you!"

Several books flew off the bookshelf, their pages flapping as they flew past D.J. and Wyatt's heads. The couch that was no longer being used for sitting, lifted off the floor and dropped back down onto the floor with a booming thud that had both Wyatt and D.J. fall absolutely silent after flinching. Two sets of eyes looked at Chris.

"If the two of you are finished sniping at each other, we have work to do," Chris barked. He crossed over to the phone, picked it up and carried it over to thrust at Wyatt, "You _Daredevil_, are going to call the cops and tell them the location of this place you went to so that they can investigate it."

"You want me to call Andy?" Wyatt asked in disbelief.

"You do have her number don't you?" Chris inquired back, heat tingeing his words.

Wyatt sighed and pulled the piece of paper from his back pocket and took the phone from Chris. It was more like he was snatching it out of his younger brother's hands, his blue eyes narrowed, "Why can't we look into this together and not get the cops involved?"

"_Because_, Wyatt. This isn't a demon problem this is a human one. Let the cops handle it. We don't do serial murderers…"

"We do when their victims are witches," Wyatt retorted.

The dishes in the kitchen began to clatter loudly in the cabinets.

D.J. shrunk back again as the two brothers started yet again bickering with one another. He really didn't want to get caught in the crossfire. Not when televisions and couches could become projectiles. D.J. couldn't stop the thought of thankfulness that Chris wasn't a firestarter.

Chris shook his head, "Not when _you_ could wind up being one of them!"

"Is that what this is about?" Wyatt asked incredulously.

"That's exactly what this is about Wyatt!" Chris shouted, the remaining living room lamp flew of its end table, just missing Wyatt's head.

Wyatt watched the lamp smash into the ground and then moved over to Chris, squaring off to his full height as he glared down at him. "_I'm_ the big brother, Chris, I'm supposed to protect _you_ not the other way around."

"I don't know, I think I remember Mom telling us to watch out for each _other_ when you decided to move out here," Chris said, "And after today, I think she was right. What have you been doing the last two years, Wy? Running headlong into danger without thinking about it? This isn't like you!"

D.J. swallowed hard and took a few more steps back from the brothers. The dishes in the kitchen were clattering louder within the cabinets. Chris and Wyatt didn't seem to notice that all Chris's hard work cleaning up the apartment earlier was being sent to ruin. Wyatt had his fists balled up at his side staring his little brother down.

"I thought we were done fighting about this, I apologized!" Wyatt said, "TWICE!"

Chris raked his hands through his hair, and blew out a frustrated breath, "That was before I realized that you'd had a premonition of yourself dying!" The words were out, snapped, and Chris's anger dissipated like a pricked bubble. The thought of his brother nearly being beheaded… fear knifed its way back in harshly and the clattering of dishes stopped abruptly. Chris's fear and worry about Wyatt had won out and extinguished the anger. 

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry again, but I'm not going to let this go. We don't know that this isn't demonic, even if D.J. said earlier that the Underworld thinks that it isn't," Wyatt said quietly, "There was a girl in the first vision that burst into flames. I'm thinking Warlock."

"At least call Andy for help," Chris said, deflated, "Let her know what we're doing so that the cops will be able to back us up? If you don't want to call her, I will…"

Wyatt handed Chris the phone and the slip of paper with Detective Payton's number. Chris rolled his eyes and dialed it, waiting for the ring. It rang twice and a man's voice answered the other end. Chris frowned, "Um, is Andrea Payton there?"

"_The Detective is a little bit tied up right now, but messages are being accepted,_" the voice said_, "May I ask who is calling?"_

Chris's brow furrowed and both Wyatt and D.J. tried to lean towards the phone simultaneously to hear. "Chris Halliwell," he said.

"_Mr. Halliwell. Would you please tell your brother that the Detective is fine and that he should know where he can reach her."_

The young witchlighter frowned as he heard the 'click' and then the dial tone. "Does her secretary always take her messages so oddly?"

"Andy doesn't have a secretary," D.J. says, "What did they say?"

"Well, they said to tell Wy that Andy was fine and that he'd know where he could reach her," Chris said, putting the phone down.

Wyatt scratched his hand through his blonde hair, "Until today I haven't spoken to her in three years. If anyone would know where to look for her, it would be D.J. Not me. He's been keeping in touch with her and kind of forgot to mention it to me until this morning."

D.J. shrugged, "The police department on Margin Street and there's this coffee shop on Derby Street that she goes to that I met her at once last year."

"No, the guy specifically said that Wy would know where to find her," Chris said.

"That's just ridiculous. She's probably just got that partner of hers yanking my chain to have a little fun with me because I haven't talked to her since my Freshmen year at San Francisco St---" Wyatt cut off, "---she's there."

Chris raised an eyebrow at his brother, the last of his temper dissipating into confusion, "Andy wants you to meet her at SFU?"

"For someone so smart, you sure can be dumb some times Chris. Not there… _there._ They've got her," Wyatt said, grabbing his brother's hand. He started to grab D.J.'s hand, but the shaggy-haired man pulled it away from his grasp.

"No, way… I'll shimmer," the half-manticore said.

"We need to go _now_ D.J. We don't have time for you to get your sea legs back," Wyatt said. He reached for D.J. but as he did the other man rippled into nothingness, shimmering away.

D.J. shimmered back a second later, "You were out for a while Wyatt. I've got my sea legs back already. Let's go. I don't want to be caught unable to get out of there if I need to." D.J. shimmered away again.

A second later, the two witchlighters followed in a funnel of white light.

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

Samara Hayley unlocked her door and stuck her head out into the third floor hallway. What on _earth_ was that racket coming from next door? There was another loud and final sounding thud, a short moment later another crash, and the sound of raised voices. The honey-eyed woman blinked, looking at the door to apartment 3A with bewildered curiosity and growing concern.

She frowned when everything went completely silent again. "I've heard of sibling rivalry, but this takes the cake," Samara said, slipping out of her apartment.

She walked over to the Halliwell's apartment and rapped her knuckles against the door, "Chris, it's Samara from next door. I don't mean to be a nosy neighbor, but I heard a bunch of noise and I was just wondering if everything was okay."

When there was no response she knocked again, concern knitting her brow. "Chris?"

"Sammy girl, what are you doing?" she whispered under her breath, "It's none of your business. None of your bloody business. The boy hardly even knows you. Quit being a busy body."

Wrinkling her nose at the door to the Halliwell's apartment, she just hoped that her decision not to try harder to intervene didn't result in her _reading_ about a body in the paper tomorrow. "They're brothers. They won't kill each other," she muttered to herself as she walked back to her own apartment. She and her older brother got into arguments all the time growing up. Never quite so _loud_, but then that was probably just the difference between a younger sister and an older brother fighting and two brothers. She certainly _hoped_ that they wouldn't kill each other.

Samara sighed, walked back to the Halliwell's door and knocked again, "Chris? Are you and your brother okay?" Of course they were okay. They just didn't want their nosy new neighbor butting into their problems. Samara drew back from the door and ran her hands through her hair; "You just met the guy this morning, Samara. It's not time to play Good Samaritan yet, you hardly know each other. Maybe they're just redecorating." She rationalized, "He did tell you that his parents were coming over."

That caused the woman to blush slightly and she called to the door, "Sorry! Just hope everything's all right. I'm going back to my apartment now…"

That was exactly what she did. With one last imploring look at the Halliwell's apartment, she closed her door. A second later came the sounds of her locks clicking.

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

"Five-foot-six, long blonde hair, very slender… she… she was wearing a gray sweater and blue jeans when I last saw her," a woman was saying into the phone as she sat in a stark office room, "She may have been with a young man. Six feet, dark hair…"

The door into the office opened and the large man entered, still carrying the hafted axe in his hand, "It's time." When he saw her on the phone, he grabbed it from her hand and hung it up. He grabbed her wrist and tightened his grip on it so that she squirmed when she looked up at him. "What are you doing?"

"I was calling the police. Abigail is missing," the woman said.

"She's not missing. She's dead," the man said, releasing her wrist roughly.

"What?!" the woman asked, horrified, "When? How?"

"Last night," he said, "I killed her."

"You what?!" she shrieked, wide eyed.

"I killed her. She betrayed us for that boy. That _witch_. They were going to try to stop this together, did you realize that? She was going to stop us. Our own daughter. Our traitorous daughter."

"You… you didn't… she didn't… she…"

"I did what had to be done," he said hotly, "I came to tell you it's time. Call the police back and tell them it was a false alarm. She just got in. You're sorry that you bothered them. Then pull yourself together and get down stairs. The last link will be here soon."

He slammed the door behind him when he left the office.

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

Chris grabbed Wyatt's shoulder and pulled him back from the door he was about to open. The dark-haired witch whispered at him, "Thinking before acting, Wyatt… can we come up with a plan before we barge in there? Preferably one that doesn't end in you becoming some sort of human sacrifice."

D.J. was standing behind the two of them in a small, darkened office on the main floor of the courthouse. It had just started to rain outside, drizzling spatter falling from the sky as the front began to come in. D.J. frowned out the window.

Wyatt turned and looked at his brother, "I suppose you have some sort of plan?"

Chris shook his head, "No, but give me a chance to think about it before you do something rash and put all of our heads on the chopping block." Just saying that made Chris wince and he saw the flash of emotion in Wyatt's eyes too that spoke of apology. "Okay, poor choice of words. Where do you think they're keeping her?"

"Basement," Wyatt said simply, "Look Chris, I don't have time for you to run every possible scenario. I may still have some issues with Andy that I need to work out, but it's my fault that she's involved in this in the first place."

"How do you figure that?" Chris asked, "She's a cop, Wy, she was already involved, investigating the murders…"

"Yeah, but these guys wouldn't have connected her to me if they hadn't seen us together this morning," Wyatt said, resting his hand on the doorknob, he looks over his shoulder towards the third member of their party, "D.J. what's so fascinating outside?"

"Just a squad car that pulled up in the parking lot. It's the only one out there and the officers are just sitting in it. Not sure that it means anything. This is a courthouse, they may just be doing a routine stop to make sure nothing is amiss," D.J. said finally turning away, "Or they're having a doughnut break."

Chris is standing, one hand still on Wyatt's arm, but he's silent now with his brow knitted together in thought. "Okay, if they have Andy in the basement and they're expecting you to go after her… We know this is obviously a trap. How about we spring it?"

Wyatt blinked, looking at his brother in disbelief, "What?"

"I second that 'what'," D.J. added, looking over his shoulder at Chris and trying to figure out what was going on in that dark-haired head of his.

"Well, they're expecting you to fall for it. They know you know it's a trap. They know you're probably not alone, so they're probably prepared," Chris said, the wheels turning now. Unfortunately neither Wyatt nor D.J. were following whatever scheme it was that the younger witch was envisioning.

"Chris… I thought you said yo--"

"Don't worry, Wy," Chris said with a roughish grin, "I won't let anything happen to you."

Just then a woman's scream ripped through the building from the basement, causing all three young men's eyes to go wide. D.J. rushed to the window to see if the cops had heard. They _had _to have heard that. But they both still sat in their seats in the squad car as though the sound hadn't left the building. Chris looked towards D.J. and the window too, releasing Wyatt's arm.

"Wyatt!" Chris hissed as he heard the door close, "…shit… I wasn't finished…"

"Uh, Chris…" D.J. said, "We've got company…"

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

Wyatt was running down the hallway with his thoughts racing. He knew he was running into a trap with Andrea as the bait and he didn't care. He'd gotten her into this mess. He also knew he was potentially running straight towards his own death. Chris was going to be furious, especially when he realized that Wyatt had telekinetically locked the door. He was waiting for the chiming sound that would be Chris orbing in front of him, irritated at this uncharacteristic rash behavior he was displaying. He was surprised when it didn't happen, but Wyatt didn't have time to worry about that. It probably had to do with his little brother's Master Plan. Wyatt would just focus on Andy.

He jerked the basement door open and then caught himself. He _was_ being rash. Drawing a centering breath, Wyatt closed the door behind him gently and began a cautious and creeping descent down the stairs and into a short hallway. There were three doors, but only one was the set of double doors that could be leading into the room he'd been in with D.J. earlier. Hesitating halfway down the stairs, Wyatt cautiously looked up and down the dim hall. There was no one there.

Another scream came from beyond the double-doors, ripping through the hallway. "Andy," Wyatt breathed under his breath. Then, a creak from the step behind him. Wyatt started to turn and felt someone's hands shove against his back that sent the Twice Blessed witch in a head over heals tumble down the last several stairs. He grunted as he hit the concrete ground at the bottom, the wind knocked from his lungs and winced.

A tall slender man was walking down the steps, buttoning black robes over a gray business suit. It was the man that had told them earlier that the place was closed. Wyatt pushed himself up onto his palms, trying to shake the stars out of his head. The business man, pulled a Venetian mask down over his face as he reached the bottom step.

The last thing Wyatt saw was a booted foot headed towards his face and he had a thought of, _not again_, before blackness sent his golden-haired head dropping against the ground.

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

When Wyatt opened his eyes again, his head was pounding. He blinked his eyes and groaned softly as his hazy vision gradually began to come into focus. He was staring up at the ceiling of a dimly lit room, a very _familiar_ ceiling. Wyatt jerked immediately, trying to get up, but quickly found out what he already knew. His arms and legs had been bound spread eagle to stakes in the floor.

_Orb. Orb!_ He commanded himself, shutting his eyes. He felt himself start to dematerialize and then cried out loudly at the electric shock that pulsed through him and caused him to drop back still. Some sort of crystal cage like those he and his brother used on demons. He opened his eyes and panted. Craning his head to the side he looked around the room, only lit by flickering candle light. _Chris_, he thought furiously. Where was his little brother? Wyatt grimaced. The necklaces weren't at the points around him yet. That had to be a good thing, right? It meant he still had some time left.

Wyatt called out, quietly, "Chris…" It didn't matter if it was a quietly spoken word, his brother _should_ still hear him. Wyatt heard soft sounds coming from behind him and he arched his neck back so that he could look towards them. He grimaced when he saw.

Andrea was tethered to one of the two large altar tables, tears running down her face while she looked towards him, "…They're coming back Wyatt… I can't get out of the ropes. I don't know what they did, but I can't get out of the ropes. I've tried, they keep shocking the hell out of me."

"I'm really sorry about this Andy…"

"Yeah, well, what's new?" Andrea tossed at him, leaning her dark haired head back against the altar.

The door leading into the chamber opened and Wyatt lifted his head as much as he could to watch the shadowed figures file in and take places in front of the benches that lined the back of the room. Five moved to the front of the room wearing colored robes. One red, one blue, one green, one white, one gray, and each of the five carried pendants dangling on chains in their upward facing palms. The last figure to enter the room was a large man that Wyatt recognized from his premonitions. "…damn it Chris, where the hell are you?" Wyatt whispered under his breath as he struggled against the bonds holding him down again.

One by one the figures in the colored robes placed their necklaces before taking their places at the front of the room.

"…Wyatt, what's going on? Wyatt?!" Andrea asked sharply, she sucked in a breath when she saw the man with the axe her eyes going wide. She tried to get out of her own ties and the pulse that shocked through her left her breathless, "_Wyatt_…"

"Where is the brother? You were supposed to bring him." the man with the axe asked. The figure in the red robes shook its head and ran a finger across its throat.

"WHAT?!" Wyatt shouted, trying to orb free of his bonds again and the Twice Blessed Witch screamed as the shock pulsed through him and brought him right back into position.

The man with the axe narrowed his eyes at the red robed figure; "We will discuss the matter of your impatience later. We have the one we need to complete the circle."

He drug the axe along the ground, moving to the place that Wyatt had seen him in the vision and Wyatt's heart started hammering against his ribs. Chris wasn't dead. Chris couldn't be dead. He… he would know… he would… wouldn't he? Wyatt locked his jaw and looked up at the man hefting the axe over his head.

"_Terra. Aria. Fuoco. Acqua. Spirito. Anima potente della strega angelic_," the man intoned. "_L'potenza magica viene a coloro che attende_."

"_L'potenza magica viene a coloro che attende_," the congregation gathered around repeated.

Andrea had her head turned so that she was looking at Wyatt, but when the large man began to bring the axe down she had to turn her head away with a scream. Wyatt didn't move, glaring up at his would-be killer in defiance.

And suddenly the axe was no longer descending towards his head. Instead the large man was hurtling through the air across the room to smack against the wall. Wyatt blinked in shocked surprise and craned his neck towards the figure that had done it. A grin flashed over his features as his little brother flung off one of the black robes and tossed the porcelain mask he'd been wearing aside. He had to duck as the two figures that had been standing next to him both swung at him at the same time and he sent them flying back against several of their brethren.

He rushed towards Wyatt and began untying the ropes securing him as the rest of the masked cult guys broke into motion. "Had you worried there for a minute, didn't I?" Chris asked his brother.

"…no," Wyatt lied, rubbing his wrists, "Chris lookout!" Wyatt shouted, shoving his brother to the side as a dart went sailing at the younger Halliwell's head.

Chris narrowed his eyes and waved his arm, sending the guy and the gun flying backwards. The figures with the colored robes were making a move towards Andrea while Chris continued to hastily attempt untying Wyatt.

"Where's D.J.?" Wyatt asked.

Chris looked up towards the robed figures moving towards Andrea, "Cover your ears, Wy."

"What?" Wyatt asked.

"Just _do_ it!"

The Twice Blessed Witch did as he was told and Chris covered his ears too. As soon as the two brothers had clapped their hands over their ears a shrill, ear piercing call reverberated through the room causing all the robed and masked figures to drop to the ground in pain from the sound. The red robed figure was the only one that didn't drop. Unfortunately for Andrea, tethered as she was, she couldn't cover her ears and she ended up hollering for it.

The red robed figure flung his mask to the side, still screaming in the high-pitched manticore call that had the would-be murderers writhing on the ground now. D.J. finally cut it off and grabbed hold of Andrea, untying her ropes and hastily shimmering out with her so that she could recover from nearly having her eardrums burst.

Chris lowered his hands from his ears and finished untying his brother, then orbed out with Wyatt in tow.

--------------------------Commercial Break------------------------------

**Author's Note**: You know you're just dying to click that button at the bottom down there to write me a review. Just like I'm dying to know what you think.


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I just checked… I _still_ don't own Chris and Wyatt Halliwell or Charmed. I'm not making any money writing this. I'm just making a bit of free entertainment for myself and others that may be interested in reading it.

**Author's Note:** This is it, the last chapter! Wow! My goodness, I can't believe it's done. It's been one heck of a ride… and I'm amazed that I finished it at last. The first episode is complete… now all I've got to do is go back, make a couple of minor revisions to a few lines early one to keep consistency with my overall story-line and type it up in screenplay format. Heehee… now I can start work on Episode Two: Marketplace of Souls. Ah, yes, and of course get to work on the corroborative project While Mom's Away the Demons Will Play with _strikermac_ from thecharmedsons Forums. She's my beta reader, revisionist, inspirationist (I know that's not a real word), and co-author all in one. Thanks so much hon! This last chapter is for you.

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**Destined: The Charmed Sons**

**Episode 1.1, Pilot: The Crucible**

**Chapter Seven**

Chris, with his brother's arm hooked over his shoulder, materialized from shimmering white orbs between two buildings that were across the building from the courthouse. The younger witch looked at his brother, "You okay?"

"Took you long enough," Wyatt muttered softly, placing a hand on the alley wall to keep him up once he let go of his little brother. His head was still pounding and his body ached, both from the tumble down the stairs and the electric shocks that had pulsed through it.

"Yeah, well, you didn't exactly wait around to hear the rest of my plan," Chris admonished, "I'm just glad that it worked."

The air behind them rippled in a shimmer that produced D.J. and Andrea. D.J. still had on the red robe from his masquerade inside. Andrea let go of him, sticking her little finger in her ear and wriggling it around, trying to clear the ringing that continued.

"What language were they speaking?" D.J. asked.

"Italian," Chris answered, looking out of the alley towards the building they had fled from. The police squad car still sat idling in the parking lot outside.

"Why does it not surprise me that you would know that?" Wyatt asked.

Andrea was frowning, "I have no idea what any of you are saying. I can't hear a damn thing." When she spoke it was a little too loudly and all three of the boys shushed her.

D.J. looked apologetic though, "Sorry about that."

Wyatt pushed himself away from the wall and held his hands over the sides of Andrea's head. The golden glow appeared a second later. "Better?"

"Much," the Detective said. She moved up beside Chris and frowned at the sight of the squad car and its unalarmed occupants, "The place must have some sort of ward of silence spell on it keeping sound from escaping, because my brothers in blue are just sitting there having a coffee break."

"How's the head?" Chris asked Wyatt.

"Still attached," the older brother said with a ghost of a smile. Chris turned around with a 'not funny' expression.

"No, smartass, I meant from being knocked out," Chris said.

"Tolerable, I've suffered from worse," Wyatt answered honestly, "Where did you two get the robes and masks from?"

"After you decided to run out and fly solo, two of those guys 'blinked' into the room, definitely Warlocks, just not very powerful ones," D.J. said, "Chris and I took care of them."

Chris raised his eyebrows at D.J.

"Okay, _Chris_ took care of them. I screamed like a girl. For the _second_ time today."

"Nothing ever changes with you boys, does it?" Andrea asked wryly.

All three glance at each other and shrug at the same time. Chris finished up for D.J. "After they were down for the count, we took their costumes. That's what I had in mind for doing any way. They just made the work a little easier for us by coming to us instead of us having to go to them."

"We're going back in to stop those guys, right?" Andrea asked.

Wyatt nodded, "Of course we are."

"I don't think so Wyatt," Chris said, adamantly, "There is no possible way I am letting _you_ go back in there. Those guys want to kill you."

"You can't tell me what to do Chris," Wyatt said.

"I hate to say it Wyatt, but I agree with him," D.J. said.

"I third that opinion," Andrea said.

"No way!" Wyatt said, "No. They may want to kill me, but who has the real firepower here? There are way too many of them in there for you three to take them alone."

"If anything," Chris said, looking at D.J. and Andrea, "You two should stay here."

"Excuse me?" Andrea asked, looking at Chris sharply.

"Beg your pardon?" D.J. raised his eyebrows too. Chris and Wyatt were his best friends, the thought of letting them go back in there with a bunch of nut jobs that wanted to kill them alone was ludicrous. Even with D.J.'s self-preservation instinct, the Halliwells were as much family to him as his own father.

"You heard me," Chris said to them, "You two go in there and we'll be worried about keeping you safe rather than doing what needs to be done and vanquishing the warlocks that are in there. I think some of those people in there may be human, but the warlocks are the real threat."

"Yeah, exactly, the _warlocks_ that are trying to kill you both," Andrea said, "And like Wyatt pointed out there are too many of them. You'll need all the help you can get. D.J. and I are not children to be coddled and kept safely at home."

The Detective looked towards Wyatt, expecting the blonde witch to agree with her.

Wyatt had other ideas, "Actually… Chris has a point. He and I should do this and you two should stay here."

D.J.'s jaw dropped, "Hold up! What happened to you dragging me along behind you earlier into this? You're not going to get rid of me now T.B."

Chris fought down a small smile as the three of them got into a heated argument about who should go in there, how to go about it, and the fact that they were all quite capable. If anyone should stay out it should be Wyatt, power or not. Andrea argued that was what the guys were after anyway: Wyatt's power. D.J. was practically jumping up and down arguing with Wyatt. Andrea had her hands on her hips, jabbing her finger against Wyatt's chest and glaring at him. They didn't even notice when Chris gradually eased back from the argument and slipped out of the alley.

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

Chris Halliwell orbed into the hallway. He blew out a breath. Okay, step one had worked, he'd distracted his brother, D.J. and Andy so that he could take care of this without any of them risking their necks too. Now he just had to work out the rest of his plan in his head. If he could draw another one of those masked guys out… No, that gimmick was way too obvious at this point. He'd ruined the element of surprise for that one. They'd see through the ruse if he tried that one again. He could go with the direct approach? That would certainly suit his mood, but might also get him killed.

Chris heard something behind him and flinched as an axe came swinging towards his head. The axe slammed into the wall where he had been and Chris turned around. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips as he backed up. There were more guys in the hallway than just the one with the axe. He waved his arm at the masked figures and sent them flying into the hallway's walls. Another blinked in.

He was ready to orb out when someone grabbed his arms from behind, grounding him back in place. Chris jerked, bringing his elbow back into the guy's gut and then lifting his palm towards the guy's face. The man's mask went flying to the floor, the porcelain thing cracking when it hit. A fist connected with Chris's stomach and his arms were twisted painfully behind him again. If he couldn't move his arms, he couldn't use his telekinesis. _Aw, crap… _Chris thought with a wince as he was drug back into the room that he'd just rescued Wyatt and Andrea from only moments ago.

"Personally, I think you guys owe me an apology for trying to kill my brother," Chris said sarcastically as he was led forcefully into the room.

All those creepy masked heads were turning towards Chris. He tried to elbow the guy again, struggling against the hold and yelped as the guy twisted his arms harder behind his back.

"Nothing personal, you understand," the man said behind him as he was led towards the pentagram on the floor that Wyatt had been bound upon, "But we need someone to complete the circle, unite the elements, and release the power to the entire coven. Then we will bring real trials to the witches."

"Your blood will do just as well as your brother's. If we can't get the elder, the younger will do. Power is power and you're as much a son of the Power of Three as your brother. So long as Halliwell blood is spilled tonight, even the Power of Three will be useless in the coming trials," the large man with the axe said as he got into his position.

"Why is it that bad guys feel the need to detail out their plots?" Chris asked. He grunted as he was flung forcefully to the ground within the circle of the pentagram. Rolling over onto his back, Chris looked glaringly up at them. There was a tense anticipation within the crowd gathered. Okay, this had been a miscalculation on Chris's part. He'd sort of failed to take into account that they _had_ asked where he was too. The axe was raised and Chris lifted his head to look up at it. Okay, crap. He waved his hand now that they were free, trying to send the axe flying out of the guy's grip, but as it started to slip the guy held onto it tighter. _Wyatt_. Chris sent mentally, tapping into the empathic link that they shared, but hadn't really used in a good two years. Not for communication anyway.

The axe swung and Chris tried to roll out of the way. The edge of the pentagram-circle shocked him like an electric fence. He had moved _enough_ out of the way though. Instead of removing anything important the sharp blade just sliced along his back, ripping through the younger Halliwell's shirt.

"Hey! This is a new shirt!" Chris yelped. There were a few claps from the gathered coven. It had just barely cut against his back, leaving a thin line of blood trickling down. He turned and waved his right hand towards the guy with the axe again, this time he managed to cause the man to back up a few steps and then nothing. It had worked on him earlier! Chris looked at his right hand in accusation for not working. Then he tried his left, waving that to the same effect. It must have something to do with being inside the circle. Chris tried to orb out of the circle and yelled shrilly as the blue pulse of electricity sent him laying, panting on his stomach.

He was definitely in over his head… and as the man swung the axe at him again he sent out a panicked mental scream towards his brother: _Wyatt!_ Chris tried to ignore the little voice that questioned whether Wyatt would even hear that, since it had been so long since they'd exercised the brotherly link between them. He didn't want to call for his brother out loud and trust the Whitelighter senses, that would give the fact that he was calling in the cavalry away and they would be ready for Wyatt. This way they wouldn't know until it was too late. So long as Wyatt actually heard him that was.

This time when Chris rolled out of the way, the axe struck the floor, taking a chunk out of the concrete.

"You should be careful with that thing," Chris said, panting, "you could put an eye out."

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

"That is the most ridiculous and sexist thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth Wyatt!" Andrea said incredulously, "I think you ought to apologize!"

"Apologize? You called me a brainless jock that just wanted to go in there and smash stuff!" Wyatt said, throwing his hands up in exasperation, "I simply retaliated in kind!"

"It's still no reason not to let me go with you, Wyatt," Andrea reminded him, "You're just being pigheaded stubborn! Just like I remember you!"

"I am when it comes to protecting my friends and family! I suppose next you're going to bring back the argument that you've 'been to a vanquish before'?" Wyatt asked her. _Wyatt._ It was a very soft voice and barely heard. Actually Wyatt thought he heard something, but then passed it off as nothing, glaring at Andrea.

"Remember what I said earlier to you about you taking the Reckless Witch award this year, Wyatt?" D.J. asked suddenly.

Wyatt raised an eyebrow, closing his mouth to look at his friend. He'd just been ready to give Andrea another reason why she shouldn't go back in there and why she should just let them handle it. He gave D.J. a 'yeah, well?' look.

"I take it back, you're out of the running again," D.J. made a face, hating to be the one to break the news, "While we were arguing, I think your neurotic, impulsive, gung-ho-demon-fighter little brother just decided to go back in there alone."

"What?!" Wyatt asked sharply. Chris hadn't used their empathic link to call for him since before the younger witch left for college. So when the forceful and panicked sounding yell blared in Wyatt's skull, he jumped. _Wyatt!_ This time Wyatt knew he had heard his brother's voice inside his head. It sounded urgent. Either that, or it was simply because he had realized that it was the empathic link between the two brothers. "Damn it! He got us arguing on purpose. I'm gonna kill him. First I'm going to save him, and then I'm going to kill him. Come on."

Wyatt grabbed Andrea's hand and orbed immediately. D.J. stared at the spot that his two friends had been in a second ago and sighed melodramatically, "Never a dull moment." He shimmered out after them. They were going to need all the help they could get.

Wyatt rematerialized in the ritual courtroom and flicked his hands forward just as the axe was swinging towards Chris again. The big man didn't explode, but went sailing across the room. At least he was away from Wyatt's little brother now. He then turned and flicked his hands at one of masked figures that was starting towards them. The figure exploded into flames and a satisfied smile spread over Wyatt's face. Then chaos broke lose. D.J. and Andrea started fighting off those that were blinking behind them and furiously tried to provide back up for Wyatt.

"You messed with the wrong witch's baby brother," Wyatt said, flinging several more of the coven members away. Never mind that they had tried to decapitate him earlier. Nobody messed with Chris without answering to him.

Chris stood up and tried to run to the edge of the circle again, crying out and sitting down hard, "Damn it! Get me out of here!"

"I should leave you in there for being so _stupid!_"

"Help now. Lecture later!" Chris snapped back, "Although I don't want to hear it from someone who was spread eagle himself earlier! So save it Wyatt!"

Wyatt moved through the crowd of masked figures, flinging them aside where he could to get to Chris. He grabbed his brother's hand and pulled him out of the circle. D.J. punched a guy in the face and shook his hand, "Ow!"

The guy with the axe was still laying on the ground where Wyatt had sent him sailing. One of the robed figures, a shorter one was moving towards _him_ rather than towards the Halliwells and their friends. Everyone else seemed bent on bringing the four 'intruders' down. As she drew closer to the fallen Leader of this gathering she threw her mask to the ground, not caring that it broke.

One of the warlocks conjured an athame and charged towards Andrea. She spun around in time to see him and threw her hands up, but the blade struck her chest - plunging into her heart - only for blade and Warlock all to go _completely_ through her, leaving her without a scratch. The warlock staggered and turned around to stare in bewilderment. Completely solid, the woman kicked the guy in the groin. "Wyatt!"

Wyatt had already been watching and flicked his wrists, blowing the warlock up in flames. "You know. It _still_ freaks me out when you do that."

"Behind you Halliwell!" Andrea shouted.

Wyatt turned and slammed his fist into the approaching masked figure's face. The porcelain mask shattered and the man collapsed to the floor. He looked behind him at his brother, who was holding his own using his telekinesis to throw, choke, and defend himself, not letting anyone get near him. Wyatt could tell that his little brother was getting tired though. He knew Chris had to be, considering this was slowly beginning to wear on Wyatt too.

The Leader was moving to get back up now and he lifted his head, looking up at the approaching woman. His wife. Her eyes were narrowed as she bent and picked his axe up from the floor. It was obviously heavy for her, but she was bent on revenge for her murdered child. "You killed her…" she hissed, "…you killed our _daughter_ in the name of power." The woman raised the axe above her head. She gasped, dropping the heavy weapon on the ground in front of the large man without getting the chance to swing it. A choking gurgle sounded from her lips and she dropped backwards, staring in disbelief at the athame that had been thrown into her chest.

"She must have inherited her loyalty from you," the man said as he got up. He picked his axe up from the floor and stepped over her corpse, "This belongs to me." He was marching straight towards the younger Halliwell now.

"A spell would be nice!" Andy shouted as she was thrown backwards by one of the masked men into one of the benches. Instead of hitting it, she phased through it and landed on the floor. As many as they managed to get rid of, more seemed to replace them.

Chris flung his hands forward again, sending black robed figures toppling. Then the dark-haired witch kicked one into the pentagram-circle. The warlock tried to charge towards him, only to get shocked. Chris smirked, "Hurts doesn't it?"

"Quit with the witty banter and come up with a spell," D.J. accused Chris as he shimmered out of the way of two figures that ended up stabbing each other.

"Some time today!" Wyatt said, presently surrounded.

Chris wracked his brain to come up with something. His eyes went wide and he ducked out of the way as the guy with the axe swung at him. The axe cleaved into one of the alter tables. "Thanks, but I had a haircut last week!" he said.

"Chris! Spell!" Wyatt shouted.

"Spell, spell, spell…" Chris rolled away from the guy, flinging his arm at him again.

"Remove the evil from within this hall…"

The axe swung at him again and Chris ducked it. The guy just kept coming back!

"Under protection mortals, manticore and witches fall,  
Safeguard our allies within this brawl…"

Chris jerked himself out of the way of the axe-wielding maniac again. The guy had a crazed look in his eyes now, more so even than before. The younger Halliwell witch tripped, sprawling across the floor.

"Vanquish our antagonists, please hear our call!" Chris finished with a shout.

The warlocks in the room burst into flame simultaneously, including the large man with the axe now standing over Chris. All at once they exploded, leaving only the mortals who finally gave up and raised their hands into the air. The axe dropped, imbedding in the floor right next to Chris's head, causing him to flinch.

Chris lifted his eyes to see Wyatt glaring at him. The younger boy grinned, "What? I work best under pressure."

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

The parking lot outside of the historic courthouse was filled with police vehicles, crime scene tape ready to keep news crews that would be soon to arrive at bay, lit by the flashing lights of the squad cars, and milling with officers securing the area. Tattered and ragged looking members of the twisted coven were being led out of the building in handcuffs. Standing off towards the edge of the action were three young men and one young woman.

"I guess that's that," Wyatt said quietly, watching them lead the last handcuffed figure from the building and load them into a police vehicle.

"I should get over there. Matt's probably ready to tear his hair out," Andrea started to walk off. She stopped, comes back over and gave Wyatt a kiss on the cheek, then gently punched his arm. "Don't be a stranger, Halliwell."

D.J. pouted with exaggerated hurt, "No kiss for me this time? _I_ was the one that untied you and got you out of there… I see how it is. You've gotta be six-foot-one clean-shaven and blonde with blue eyes to get any attention. That's it; I'm bleaching my hair and trading my glasses for colored contacts when I get back home. Watch out Paul Walker! I can see it now, D.J. Anderson, People Magazine's Sexiest Man for 2025!"

Andrea smiled and rolled her eyes, giving D.J. a kiss too, "Your glasses make you look dignified. And don't you dare dye your hair or lose that cute little goatee."

D.J. grinned broadly, raising his eyebrows up and down at Wyatt, "Did ya hear that? She thinks my goatee is cute."

Wyatt just stood there in dumbstruck bewilderment, looking at her. Baffled he lifted his hand to his cheek. Chris smirked with his arms crossed over his chest. Wyatt opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Then the blonde witch's face spread into a brilliant grin. "I guess I'm off the hook for not keeping in touch?"

"If you think getting me kidnapped, nearly getting your head eighty-sixed from your body, busting my ear-drums, and solving my murder case is going to get you off the hook… you don't know me very well," she teased him. Then she gave Chris a kiss on the cheek and ruffled his hair. Andrea leaned in close to the younger man and whispered in his ear, "Keep him out of trouble, will ya?"

Chris smiled, and then sarcastically offered, "I'll do my best. But I'm not a miracle worker. You see what I'm working with here…"

"I forgot what it was like to be around you boys," Andrea let out a cheerful chiming laugh. The three young men watched her as she walked off and returned to the mix with her fellow officers. Ducking under the crime-scene tape, Andrea flashed her badge to the younger officers. Then she was out of sight.

Once Andrea is out of sight, Wyatt slugged his little brother in the arm, "I heard that."

"That was the point," Chris said.

"Hey… what time is it?" Wyatt asked, tapping his watch, which had been broken during the fighting at some point.

Chris's emerald eyes went wide, then he shouted in realization, "Oh crap! Mom and Dad!"

Wyatt's eyes went wide too and he looked down at his battle weary clothes, "I'd better get changed before they get there. Don't want Mom to see me like this…"

"I've got a hurricane to clean up before they get there, if they aren't there already waiting outside the apartment door," Chris said. He'd have to use a spell, but he rationalized that it wasn't personal gain. He was doing it for his Mom to save her from having a heart attack.

D.J. put up his hands, "Don't look at me. You two are on your own with that. I've had enough 'fun' for one day." That said the half-manticore shimmered out of sight.

Exchanging worried looks with each other, the Halliwell brothers glanced towards the crime scene to make sure no one was looking and vanished in a cloud of orbs.

---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------

Evening images of the city roll through. People enjoying the nightlife as they stroll along. Cars driving on the streets. Flashes of the architecture of the city lit with evening lights. Finally the images settle upon a taxi cab pulling up in front of the apartment complex over the nightclub that Chris and Wyatt live in.

Song: "Boston" - Augustana

Piper closed her cell phone again as the Taxi pulled up outside of the building that her two sons were living in. "They still aren't answering, Leo." The woman was on pins and needles at this point. She had been ever since Chris had hung up on her while they were still trapped in Chicago. This was at least the twelfth time she had tried to call them since landing in Boston.

There was music coming from the club that was run out of the bottom floor of the building and young people lined up waiting to get in. Piper, a club owner herself, barely even glanced at the place in her concern for her children. Usually she paid more attention to other successful clubs for ideas of how to improve her own. Not as much attention as she paid restaurants, but neither would have caught her focus right then. She climbed out of the cab as it pulled over.

Leo frowned at his wife, still thinking that she was worrying too much. Granted, the man was concerned too when their children hadn't picked them up at the airport, but something probably just came up. They were both adults now; it wasn't illogical that they'd had some event or other to get caught up in. It didn't _always_ have to be something demonic.

Leo pulled some money from his wallet and handed it to the driver. He looked towards the nightclub as he went to the trunk to get their bags. 'Avalon'. The man had to smile at the irony that his two sons were living over a club that went by the name of 'Avalon'.

Piper was at the side door that was a separate entrance into the building up to the apartment complex above. She was pushing the buzzer repeatedly for her son's apartment. "Something is seriously wrong, Leo…"

"I'm sure you're worrying over nothing," Leo said for the millionth time. He grunted as he hefted the heavy suitcases and carried them towards the door.

"We need someone to buzz us in," Piper said, trying the door. The woman hit the buzzer for the boy's apartment again, "I don't like this Leo. I don't like it one bit."

As she was hitting the buzzer again the door opened. A young woman, about five-feet seven give-or-take an inch, with sandy, shoulder length hair and eyes the color of warm honey walked out. Seeing Piper and Leo standing there, Samara held the door open for them. Leo's forehead creased when he looked at her and a hint of recognition lit the man's sea green eyes before he shook it off. He'd thought for a second that he had seen her before, but it was possibly just that she had one of those familiar faces. It was nothing.

"Thank you," he said, carrying the bags inside.

Piper entered a moment after him, while the young woman closed the door and headed off on her way down the street. Hefting her oversized shoulder bag that was weighed down with the large tome she had taken from the family's attic, she poked her husband in the ribs, teasing, "Don't think I didn't see that, Mister. I saw you give that young blonde co-ed the once over."

Leo laughed and smiled at his wife, leaning down to kiss her, "You should know by now that you're the only woman in my life."

"I'd better be," Piper smiled, knowingly, "Because I could blow you up into itty-bitty pieces if I found out otherwise." Growing more serious again the woman started up the stairwell with Leo following her, "Our sons had better be in their apartment and have a very good excuse for giving me more gray hairs."

They got to the third floor and Leo put the bags down outside the door of apartment 3A, while Piper proceeded to knock on the door as loudly as possible.

"_I'm coming, I'm coming!"_ they heard their youngest son's voice call from inside before he opened the door, smiling. Chris gave his mother a warm embrace and then did the same for his father, "Hey guys!"

"See, I told you there wasn't anything for you to worry about," Leo said, "Hey, Buddy."

"Where have you been, young man? I don't know how many messages I've left you," Piper asked, walking into the apartment after her relieved hugging of Chris. The apartment was spotless and she smiled rather proudly, without knowledge of what it had looked like literally seconds before she had knocked on the door. The smile only lasted so long before she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Chris while he helped his father bring the bags inside, "Where's your brother?"

As if in answer to that question, the door handle to Wyatt's room began to rattle and a fist could be heard pounding on it from the other side, "CHRIS!"

Piper raised her eyebrows, taking note of the crime scene tape stretched over the door in question and a little knowing and crooked smile quirked the mother's lips upwards, "I see…"

"Chris this isn't funny! CHRIS!" Wyatt shouted again.

Chris coughed innocently, fighting down his own smile, "So, you two want to leave your things here and we go to the club downstairs? They've got a Valley of Silence cover band playing that's supposed to be pretty good…"

The doorknob to Wyatt's room continued to jerk. The sound of jingling orbs on the other side could be heard and were followed by a heavy thud. The doorknob started twisting again with more pounding, "_Chris! This is me: not laughing! You just wait 'til I get out of here!"_

Chris did grin then, holding the door open for his parents. Piper ruffled her youngest son's hair and kissed his cheek as she stepped into the hallway. Leo just shook his head, eyes twinkling in amusement and followed his wife.

"Have fun cleaning your room Wy!" Chris said, "And no magic!"

Chris shut the door to their apartment behind him.

"CHRIS!!!!"

--------------------------End Credits Roll------------------------------

**Author's Note**: Whew! Oh my goodness… it's done… I can't believe it… it's finally done… wow… Hah hah! I hope you all enjoyed it. The only way that I'm going to know what you thought of it though, is if you click that little button at the bottom down there and write me a review.

Now… time for me to do another copy of this puppy in script format!


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